Eyes Turned Skyward
by utopia1101
Summary: Twilight re-imagined with a stronger Bella and healthier characters. Complete in 16 chapters. OOC, M for language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, this is my re-working of **_**Darkness and Light**_**. I am not taking it down, and, while some passages will be verbatim, I'm anticipating a lot of changes, so I'd encourage you to read both. Below is an explanation for my title. I love that quote.**

**I do not own Twilight or its characters.**

"**Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return." – Leonardo da Vinci**

**Prologue**

I have never believed in fairy tales. Even as a small child, magic and dragons and princesses and kingdoms held little fascination for me. I have always loved literature, the romance of Austen, the drama of Shakespeare, but I have never given myself over to it completely. In order to truly appreciate the beauty behind _Romeo and Juliet_, you must be willing to go beyond the suspension of disbelief and into a world where anything is possible, and I have simply never existed in that world.

That's not to say that I don't believe in relationships, that I don't believe in love. And please don't misunderstand me, I believe in romance as well. I've just never experienced anything remotely close to what's in those stories. I've never been in love. I've never felt lust. I've never needed or wanted anyone but myself.

I look at the world around me, at couples holding hands as they walk down the street, at classmates kissing frantically in the hallways between periods, and I feel nothing more than a detached curiosity. I don't envy them. I don't covet their happiness. Because who says they're happy? Sure, they're happy now. But what about tomorrow? What about next week? What about next year?

My father and mother were happy in love in the beginning, but then they weren't. And now my mother is happy in love again, but what if that love runs out? The problem with Shakespeare and Austen is that their characters love passionately while they're in front of you, but then the story ends and the book closes, and you're left with unrealistic expectations. Happily ever after is an impossibility. People grow, they change, and life is never perfect.

Romeo and Juliet were teenagers who knew each other for a matter of days. They married in secret and took their own lives. This is the romance model that our culture is based on.

I believe in relationships and I believe in love, but I believe in myself first. Austen's protagonists are tortured until the very last pages. Shakespeare's lovers are equally tormented. Juliet lets Romeo in, she allows him to make wild proclamations of love, to climb up to her, to possess her. Juliet allows Romeo to tell her he loves her, and then Juliet tells him she loves him back.

And for the rest of the play they're miserable. Their lives are turned upside down, their families are killing each other, Verona is falling apart. And then they die. They die for love. They die because one can't bear to be without the other. They die because of a misunderstanding.

Love is the most important thing in the world. It controls everything, drives everything. It is the ultimate in platitudes and the one thing every culture, religion, civilization can agree upon the existence of. It can build bridges and climb mountains, but it can also ruin lives. It is powerful and dangerous and wildly unpredictable. And it permanently alters everything and everyone it touches.

My parents fell out of love and my life changed. My mother fell in love again, and so my life is changing again.

I believe in the existence and importance of love, but having seen what I've seen and felt what I've felt and read what I've read, love seems to be too much of a risk.

I'm a lot of things, but I am definitely not a risk taker.

**Chapter One**

I hate airplanes. I hate the too-small seats and the forced proximity with strange people. I hate the double-thick plastic that separates me from the fluffy, white clouds and clean air outside. I hate the flimsy headphones and the in flight movies that I can never quite see. I hate the recycled, stale air, and the way every exhale comes back to me with every intake of breath. I hate the tray tables, cluttered with the sticky, hollow rings of previous drinks, the deeper stains of past spills, the plastic haunted by the people who used them before me. I hate airplanes. And I hate starting over.

This was my fault, my idea. My need to take care of my mother, my insistence on the change. I just wanted her to be happy, to get her smile back. I missed her smile. I knew she did, too. Her husband, my step-father, traveled constantly for work, and it was killing her to be apart from him. But it was a sacrifice she made willingly and without complaint… for me. And now I can make sacrifices, too. She was resistant, unwilling to let me go, but I convinced her. I would live with my father in Washington. I would leave Phoenix and our house with the blue front door at the end of the block. I would leave my room with the pale pink walls, unchanged since we had painted them together when I was a little girl. I would leave the sun and the desert and the hot breeze that would plaster my hair against my neck while my mother and I would take our nightly walks around the neighborhood, a habit leftover from one of her exercise obsessed phases. I would leave, and she would travel with Phil, and they would be happy. And I would start over. I hate starting over.

I sat back in my seat, my legs cramped from sitting too long, and let my head fall back against the vinyl headrest, cracked and lumpy from overuse. Exhaling sharply through pursed lips, I let my gaze drift towards the half-open window and thought about what would wait for me when I landed. This was the last leg of the trip, the quick flight to Port Angeles where my father, Charlie, would be waiting, smiling uncomfortably, I was sure. We would land soon, the plane would empty onto the tarmac, and there he would be, shifting his weight. We would load my trunks, mostly filled with knick knacks rather than clothes, as my new home would be much colder than my old one, into his car, and we would begin the hour long drive to the house my parents had bought when I was born. The house I hadn't been to in years, because I always insisted that Charlie spend his vacations with me in warmer, sunnier places. The plane began to descend, the lone flight attendant walking the aisle to check seat belts and tray tables, a bored expression on her face. I leaned down to put my MP3 player away, sighing as I realized that I had been too deep in thought to pay any attention to the music that was meant to relax me. Straightening, I lifted the window shade, gazing intently at the approaching ground and saying my last goodbye to the sun as we dipped below the dull gray clouds. I bit my lip, feeling a small, tense knot develop in my stomach as we came closer and closer to the ground until, finally, the landing gear met the runway, the plane skidded to a stop, and it was all over. I was here. And it was too late to go back.

I hate starting over.

**Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I've consolidated and altered here. In un-Becca fashion, I'm going to leave this and come back to it in an hour to re-read, so know that whatever you're reading has actually been quasi-edited and thought over. It's a first for me.**

**I'm still hyper-insecure about this whole re-write thing, so, please, I'm begging you, review me and actually tell me something. If you like it, tell me why. If you hate it, be brutal. Just let me know. I'm needy.**

**I don't own Twilight. It's raining.**

**Chapter Two**

After 45 minutes of relatively comfortable silence, Charlie finally opened his mouth again. We had chit-chatted about Arizona and Renee and Phil as we waited for my trunks to be removed from the plane. We had discussed the weather forecast for the next few days as we loaded his police cruiser. We had exchanged the necessary pleasantries about being "excited to be here" as we both got settled in the car. And then small talk had been replaced by silence. Blissful silence. That's the one great thing about Charlie… he doesn't feel the need to fill dead air. But, right now, there was apparently business to attend to.

"So, Bella…" Charlie began, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and tightening his grip on the steering wheel, "we should probably discuss how this is going to work."

I could tell he was uncomfortable. We hadn't lived together since I was a baby and, though he would visit Phoenix occasionally and the two of us would go on our traditional 2 week vacation every year, we really didn't know each other very well. I turned to him so he could tell I was listening and I nodded.

"Well, I know you're older now, and you'll be needing some space. And, you know, I've gotten so used to living by myself for the past 17 years... I just want to make sure you're comfortable. I know your mother likes to… spend lots of time with you and everything… it's just… with my job, I tend to be out of the house a lot…" his voice trailed off and he became visibly more flustered. His job as Chief of Police was not necessarily a stressful one in such a small town, but I was sure it kept him more than busy.

"Ch-… Dad, please. Don't worry about it," I rushed. Renee _did_like to spend lots of quality time with me, but the truth was that I generally spent just as much time taking care of her as she did of me, and, with someone as high maintenance as Renee, it could get exhausting. A break from such constant attention and worry would actually be pretty refreshing. I missed her already, but was grateful for the bit of independence her absence afforded me. "You know me. I like being by myself. I'll be fine. We'll be fine. Really."

His grip on the steering wheel relaxed a bit at that. He was clearly very happy for me to finally be staying with him, but the period of adjustment would be… uncomfortable. For both of us.

"Alright, Bella. You know that if you need anything, to talk or anything… just know I'm always here for you. I know this is stressful, starting a new school and getting used to such a new place… I'm here. If you need me." This was clearly what he had been trying to say to me, and he nodded once to himself with a slight smile on his lips, as if congratulating himself for getting it all out. Charlie wasn't much of a talker. Neither was I.

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate that." I turned to look out the window again, thinking father-daughter time was over. We were just entering the town now, passing a small sign bearing the words "Forks, WA: Population 3,221." This was it. My new home. I closed my eyes and let my forehead rest on the glass of the window, sighing quietly to myself. From Phoenix to Forks. The knot in my stomach gave a little twist. My entire world had shifted from one place to another in less than a day. How was that even possible?

"So, about getting you a car…" Charlie's more confident voice broke into my reverie. I didn't turn this time, simply grunting for him to continue. "Well, I found you something nice. I think it's nice, anyway."

"How much?" I asked. We had been discussing the possibility of him helping me buy a car once it was decided I was moving up here. Renee had been forced to chauffer me all over Phoenix, and I wasn't eager for Charlie to have to do the same. Especially since his only car was his police cruiser.

"Well, you know, I had been thinking about that. I don't want you to spend your savings, Bella. Especially with you moving into a new town and everything… you should have money to go out and do things with the friends you'll make. So, I, uh… I decided to go ahead and buy it for you. As a welcome home gift." He stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye, his lips twitching up into a smile beneath his mustache. "I hope that's alright."

Shocked out of my reverie, I sat straight up and turned to face him, my seatbelt cutting into my shoulder from the force of my sudden movement. "Dad… that's… thank you so much. Really. That's amazing. Thank you."

His smile widened as we turned down a street I vaguely remembered, pulling up to a house that I hadn't seen in years. Even with such faint memories, I knew instantly that nothing had changed. The house was the same grayish white it had always been, standing two stories with its sash windows framed in blue shutters, one of the last alterations my mother had made to the house before she had left Forks behind for good. It sat small and simple, set back a bit from the street, with its small, one-car driveway separating it from the thick forest the lot disappeared into. There was only one noticeable change… a wide, rust-colored pick-up truck which sat parked at the curb. It looked old and solid and, best of all, very, very me.

"Dad?" I questioned as we pulled into the driveway. I turned around in my seat, craning my neck to catch another glimpse of what I hoped was my new car.

"That's it, Bella. Hope you like it." He looked at me, trying to gauge my reaction. Surprising both of us, I leaped across the seat and gave him a quick hug around his neck. The knot in my stomach eased up a bit. Maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad.

"It's perfect, Dad. So perfect. I love it. Really, I can't thank you enough." I jumped out of his cruiser and jogged over to my gift, tripping over a seam in the concrete along the way.

"I bought it off of Billy, you remember Billy. Anyway, he and his son rebuilt it as sort of a project, and they said it's in solid condition. Shouldn't have any problems with it. I think he said it was a '53 or a '54, but I can't really remember." His voice was bright as he went on, clearly relieved that I was so happy with his purchase. He watched me examine my new car, laughing as I attempted to polish the Chevy emblem on the front grille with the hem of my shirt. The chrome had tarnished decades ago, and I was fighting a losing battle.

I circled my new baby, running my hands across the driver's side door before wrenching the handle open and hopping inside. The cab was large and well-worn and smelled faintly of tobacco and damp earth, but it was mine. My fingers played across the cracked leather of the seat, and I smiled because it was mine, too. The steering wheel, the ancient radio, the stained carpet of the floorboards, they all belonged to me now, and that ownership made me feel safe and secure and, best of all, like life wasn't so bad after all.

"Look, Bells, I hate to break this party up, but it looks like the sky's about to open," Charlie said, glancing pointedly at the mean gray clouds overhead with a bemused expression. As if in response, a fat raindrop landed on the windshield, followed by another. I hate rain.

"Ummm… yeah. Let's get inside, then." I said, following behind him as we unloaded my trunks from his cruiser and hurried inside. I hadn't brought much, so everything made it into the house and up the narrow stairs in one trip.

And suddenly I was there. In my tiny, postage stamp-sized room.

Charlie helped me dump my luggage in a corner and muttered something about ordering a pizza and getting out of my hair while I got settled. All of my former elation whooshed out of me in one long sigh. This was real now. This was home. The knot in my stomach tightened and curled and expanded. In three short strides, I crossed the room and perched tensely on the edge of my new bed.

What next?

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Forks, Washington.

I woke up, and I was still here.

Last night had been a rough one, and it had sort of taken me by surprise. Aside from Renee, I really didn't have that much to miss in Phoenix, and I had never expected to be so affected by the move. I'd had friends, but none of them were close. I'd had a routine, but it wasn't anything that couldn't be maintained here. And still, I had barely slept, crying for the bulk of the night instead.

As I rolled out of bed, I wondered about how my day would go. Today I would start school. I would meet new people, teachers, students. I would start entirely anew. Today would suck

I'm generally a rather closed person, I suppose, and I was never really understood at school in Phoenix. I maintained an exemplary GPA, but none of my teachers knew what to make of me. I participated in the occasional extracurricular activity, would follow my small group of friends to football games and pep rallies, but my peers never knew what to say to me, how to interact with me. My mother loves to joke that I was born a 35-year-old with a career and a mortgage, and that I have been aging ever since. There's a lot of truth to that statement. I can feel my teenage years slipping away, my high school years vanishing even faster, and so far I've wasted every last one of them.

But this place, this time would be different.

Even if it kills me.

I will have friends here. I will have parties and study groups and sleepovers and date nights. I will laugh and smile and allow people to get to know me. I will be happy. Well, _happier_, anyway.

I walked around the foot of my bed to the window in the corner, placing my fingertips on the freezing glass and tracing the descent of the raindrops that landed there. Old Bella would have been deeply upset by this weather and allowed it to ruin her day. She would have taken it as some sort of ominous sign of what's to come. She would have reveled in the misery of it. New Bella's going to roll with it. It rains almost every day in Forks. New Bella understands that. New Bella won't let it get to her.

New Bella, new school, new start. You can't keep life at bay forever, and what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. I would do this. I _could_ do this.

New Bella, new school, new start.

Spinning on my heel, I quickly crossed the room to my door, grabbing the bathrobe that hung behind it, and walked down the hallway as silently as possible to the bathroom that Charlie and I now shared. It was vacant, and I let out a little sigh of relief. Obviously Charlie woke up much earlier than me. That was good. I closed the door behind me and turned to face myself in the small, oval mirror which hung above the ancient porcelain sink, surveying the damage from last night's pity party. This was not good.

"You need to stop this shit right now, young lady," I lectured my reflection. "Do you have any idea how much time it's going to take me to fix this?"

My hair, generally out of control with its waves anyway, was now a full-blown rat's nest. It stuck out from the back of my head like chestnut Brillo, with small pieces sticking out in odd directions. My eyes, the same brown as my hair, were nearly swollen shut from the amount of crying I had done, the skin underneath them looking hollow and faintly purple, betraying my lack of sleep. My pale complexion was even paler, be it from exhaustion or stress or the sheer terror of what I had to face today. Shaking my head in disgust, I reached down to the faucet and began splashing cold water on my face. I looked up again. It had helped. A bit. Still, this was going to take some work.

I brushed my teeth quickly, trying to forget that, just 24 hours ago, I had been brushing my teeth in my bathroom in Phoenix. I bent over, washing my face in earnest this time, and was just leaving the bathroom when I heard Charlie call up the stairs from the kitchen.

"Bells? You've got about 30 minutes before you have to leave, honey. Hurry up. You don't want to be late."

No. I certainly did not want to be late. I spun into my room, grabbing my hairbrush off my desk and turning to face the low dresser that had been my great-grandmother's. It was a rich, dark mahogany with rounded corners and clawed feet. A large, squared mirror rose from behind it, with floral embellishments framing its corners in the same rich wood. I had been terrified of this dresser when I was a little girl, thinking it looked like something out of a haunted house. But it was beautiful. I could see that now.

With some effort, I managed to smooth my long hair into presentable waves, taking small sections from the front and pinning them in the back in preparation for the rain that would surely not be lifting any time soon. Nodding to myself, I reached for my makeup bag, glad that Renee had forced me to buy some basics before I left. I used to just use whatever she had, and she was always happy to share with me. Now, I was on my own in that department.

Not really knowing what I was doing, I covered my face in a light powder. I was still pale, but at least it evened out the splotches and dark circles from last night's sob-fest. I held a dark gray eye liner in my hand and wondered if it was even worth it. "New Bella, new school, new start," I chanted to myself, and quickly swiped it over both lids before I could change my mind. Mascara came next, and then some clear lip balm, an expensive one that Renee had given me as a going away present. She said it would give me confidence. I had thought she was being ridiculous at the time, but it did look rather nice, and I smiled at myself, stashing the balm in my backpack so I could re-apply later.

My face taken care of, it was time to deal with the rest of me. I opened my window and leaned out a bit, trying to gauge the temperature. It was freezing. Duh. Turning to the closet, I grabbed my favorite pair of jeans and a purple long sleeve t-shirt. Slipping them on quickly, I surveyed myself in the mirror. Not bad. After years of hot weather and tank tops, though, I'd have to get used to all this fabric. Reaching into the closet again, I pulled out a charcoal gray sweater, a short-ish one with a v-neck, and added it to my ensemble. Turning to the mirror, I found myself optimistic for the first time all morning. I really looked good. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.

"10 minute warning," Charlie yelled up the stairs, pulling me out of my happy place and pushing me back into reality.

"Shit," I muttered, collecting my backpack and grabbing my new, waterproof boots on my way into the hall. "I'm going to have to start waking up earlier."

I hate feeling rushed… it stresses me out. Oh well, time to push that aside. I took the stairs too fast, stumbling a couple of times and nearly missing the last step entirely. Taking a moment to compose myself, I arranged my face into a smile as I crossed the small living room into the kitchen, wishing Charlie a good morning.

"Morning, Bells. You get settled in alright?" Charlie asked, rising from the table.

"Oh, yeah, Dad. No worries." I said, watching him dump his dishes from breakfast into the kitchen sink before he made his way to the front door. "You leaving for work?"

He turned sheepishly, as if sorry that he would be leaving before me. "Yeah, Bells. Will you be alright? There's cereal in the pantry, and eggs in the fridge. I didn't really know what you'd want, so I thought we'd go grocery shopping today after work."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, rising to meet him at the door. "Have a great day, Dad. See you when you get home."

"You too, Bells. You remember how to get to the school?"

I nodded.

"Alright, then. Good luck, kiddo." He grabbed his jacket and gun holster from the peg by the hall closet, gave me a weak smile, and reluctantly walked out the door.

I turned and walked back into the kitchen, opening cabinets and drawers, trying to remember where everything went. The walls were a simple white, the floor a fading blue linoleum, but the cabinets were canary yellow, another vestige of my mom's brief occupation of the house. I was surprised he hadn't re-painted them after all these years, and took it as a sign that he liked keeping reminders of her around. I grabbed a cereal bar out of the pantry and wandered into the living room, taking the opportunity to check everything out while I was alone.

I grabbed my boots from where I had dropped them by the stairs, and perched myself on the end of a well-worn ottoman. Lacing up my new, heavy shoes quickly, I glanced around the room, taking in old family photos and knick knacks, remembering some, not recognizing others. I ran my hand over the squat green couch which sat under the front window, adjusted the shade of the white lamp on the end table, and poked Charlie's green recliner, watching it rock back and forth a couple of times before it finally settled again. The small flat-screen TV across from the couch was the only new addition to the room, and I smiled to myself. Charlie must really like his TV.

A hollow chime from the antique clock behind me ended my tour of the house. It was now 7 o'clock. Time to leave for school. I crossed the room in two steps, grabbing my new coat off of its peg by the door. It was black and bulky and felt very, very foreign as I pulled my arms through it, drawing the hood up over my hair to protect me from the rain outside. With a sigh of resignation, I swung my backpack over my shoulder and headed out the door, grabbing the key that maintained a permanent residence under the eave and locking it behind me before putting the key back in place.

Squaring my shoulders, I crossed the lawn in front of the house too quickly as I tried to avoid the rain, losing my balance and nearly wiping out. Nice job, Swan. I straightened up and proceeded towards my truck with much more caution, taking slow, deliberate steps until I reached my new baby and scrambled inside. This wet grass thing would take a lot of getting used to. I was clumsy anyway, but add slippery, uneven surfaces to the mix and I was full-on screwed.

I turned the key and the engine roared to life, waking up anyone within a ten mile radius who had the common sense to still be asleep at 7 o'clock in the morning. As awesome as my new truck was… damn was it loud. It took a couple hard pumps of the clutch before I could get into gear, but then I was off, driving down slick, unfamiliar roads, approaching a school I had never been to but still knew the exact location of. In a town as small as this one, nothing's hard to find.

I hummed to myself a bit, trying to calm my nerves, trying to make my hands stop shaking, trying to make that damn knot in my stomach go away. When that didn't work, I tried singing, and when that didn't work, I began chanting.

"New school, new start," I repeated over and over to myself. And then I was there. All too soon. I wished the drive had taken longer, I wished there had been traffic. I wished I was braver, prettier, more interesting, I wished a bolt of lightning would come down and hit me now so I wouldn't have to do this. I wished to be anywhere but here. But it didn't work. I've never been one to believe in that sort of thing anyway.

I pulled into the first lot I saw, parking directly in front of a sign that read "Forks High School, Home of the Spartans."

Fuck me.

Here we go.

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, total author fail. Please refrain from throwing things at me. I know it's been forever and a day since I've updated, but I took a bit of a sabbatical. Now I'm back. Lets do this shit.**

**I don't own this. Which makes me wonder why I've devoted so much time to it. But, you know… everyone needs a hobby.**

**Chapter Three**

"Forks High School, Home of the Spartans"

I blinked at the sign in front of me a few times before yanking the hood of my jacket over my head and stepping cautiously out of my truck. The rain had gotten heavier, more insistent, and I could feel the surface of my jacket dimple under each heavy drop.

Walking as briskly as I could without tripping, I made my way out of the parking lot to the nearest overhang, taking a moment under my newfound shelter to look around. If this was a high school, it certainly did not look it.

In Phoenix, my school had been large and institutional-looking, long, two-story buildings with beige and tan walls and narrow glass windows. It had been surrounded by chain link fences and low cement block walls. Forks High was an entirely different scene. The buildings were low, brick, and spread out. Rust-colored metal awnings mercifully covered every walkway, providing shelter for students between buildings and classrooms. The buildings looked warm and inviting, their large windows shining brightly through the rain and the gray that surrounded me. Everything around me felt friendly and personal, and I found myself missing the detached sterility of my old school, my old life. This place felt like it wanted something from me. I did not appreciate the feeling.

I turned towards the nearest building and sighed in relief as I read the sign affixed to the wall next to the door.

"Office"

At least I didn't have to wander around in the rain.

Squaring my shoulders, I pushed the door open and stepped inside, unzipping my jacket a bit in response to the warm closeness of the room. The space was rectangular and bisected by a high counter that ran the width of the room, ending in a low gate next to the opposing wall. In front of the counter, in the area nearest the door, there was a row of chairs pushed back against the wall and a small folding table covered in small, neat stacks of papers. The carpet was rust-colored and of the standard commercial variety, and the walls were decorated with neat rows of picture frames, each one containing a photograph of a faculty member, with a small plaque designating their name and subject. Beneath the frames, the walls were a yellowing beige. The room looked old and worn, but it was clear that it was well cared for.

I approached the counter, meeting the eyes of the woman who sat behind it and smiling as warmly as I could at her.

New Bella, new school, new start.

"Hello," I began, placing my hands on the grey Formica surface in front of me and willing my smile to hold, "I'm—"

"Isabella Swan," the woman finished, smiling brightly at me before nodding to herself and busying her hands with some papers in front of her. "You're Chief Swan's daughter. You have his eyes, of course. We're so glad for you to be here, Isabella. Welcome to Forks High."

"Bella," I corrected her, and she looked up at me curiously, her hands stilling for a moment. "I prefer Bella," I explained.

"Oh," she replied, her forehead creasing, and she concentrated on her papers again with renewed vigor. "I'm Mrs. Cope, dear," she said without looking up. "If you have any problems during the year, I'll be the one to help you with them." She smiled at me again, but it did not reach her eyes. I wondered if I'd offended her by correcting her.

"Great."

"Yes," she replied with a brief nod, tapping the papers in her hand on her desk before reaching up to place them in front of me on the counter. "This is your schedule," she said, gesturing to the paper on top. "I know you were in advanced classes at your last school, but our student body is not large enough to accommodate those here, so I'm afraid you'll just have to make do." She looked at me, as though waiting for me to protest or comment. I did neither, so she continued. "As the term has already started, I fit you into whatever I could. We have wonderful teachers here, though, and our students are very friendly. I'm sure you'll be settled in no time."

She removed my schedule from the top of the stack, placing it to the side as she shuffled another paper forward.

"This is a map of the school. I've written your locker number here," she pointed to the bottom corner of the page, "along with your combination. You will find it in the same hallway as your first class, which is also your home room. If you have any questions about where to go, I'm sure your fellow students will be happy to assist you. Your teachers are aware that you are coming, and I will need each of them to sign this," she showed me yet another piece of paper, "and for you to return it to me at the end of the day."

She went through the rest of the papers with me, showing me school policies and supply lists, graduation requirements for the state and academic requirements for the county. She talked me through were to park and again recommended that I approach a classmate if I had any general questions.

"Have a wonderful first day, Bella," she said, waving me out of the office. "I hope you enjoy your time with us."

Walking out of the building, I paused to shove the papers into my jacket and pull my hood over my head before walking back to my truck. I had parked in the wrong lot. I would have to move.

Driving over to the student lot Mrs. Cope had described for me, I mulled over the day ahead. There were elements I could not control. I could not control the teachers or the students, the curriculum, the weather, my schedule. But I could control my behavior. I could control how I reacted to everyone, how I presented myself. I couldn't control their opinions of me, but I could help shape them. And I was Chief Swan's daughter. A good impression was necessary, if only for his sake.

I parked in the first space available in the crowded lot and took a few calming breaths before stepping out into the rain once more, this time with my Jansport slung over my shoulder.

New Bella, new school, new start.

I walked towards the cluster of buildings in front of me, across the crowded parking lot, and into the shelter of the walkway.

New Bella, new school, new start.

I pulled out my schedule and read through it a couple of times.

English, American Government, Trigonometry, Spanish, Lunch, Biology, Gym.

Piece of cake.

Squaring my shoulders, I set off for my first class, my first new teacher, my first introduction to the student body. I could do this. I would do this.

New Bella, new school, new start.

Today was the first day of the rest of my life.

At the time, I didn't know how true that was.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The first four periods passed quickly and without incident. None of my teachers had made me introduce myself to the class, and for that I was eternally grateful. In each new room, there was always one person who was braver than most who would introduce themselves, and I answered a lot of questions and returned a lot of smiles.

Everyone called me Isabella, and, after the first three people, I gave up on correcting them.

Everyone asked me how I liked Forks, what it was like to live in Phoenix, what I thought of the school so far, if all this rain was driving me insane… gentle, social questions that allowed for easy, casual responses.

I was receiving more attention than I would have liked, but it had all been friendly. Everyone had been nice. Every face had held a smile for me.

I was walked to lunch by a girl from my Spanish class whose name I could not remember. She was a head shorter than me and had a wild mane of curly black hair that dropped halfway down her back. She talked too loudly and laughed too readily, but she was nice to me so I did my best to enjoy her company.

She took me through the wide double-doors that led into the cafeteria, steering me towards the lunch line at the head of the expansive room. The scene in the lunch room was, once again, rather different from what I had been used to in Phoenix. Rather than long, institutional tables with attached seating, the room was littered with smaller, rounder tables. Brightly-colored plastic chairs were being moved from table to table at will, demonstrating rather quickly who was popular in the room and who was not. The socially ignored of the school sat at tables with markedly fewer chairs.

After selecting and paying for a slice of pizza and bottle of water, my companion led me confidently towards her table, situating herself next to me and waving over friends and acquaintances to come and meet me as though I were some sort of side show. Her table filled up rather quickly, and I fell easily into conversation with her friends, talking lightly about places I should go and teachers I should avoid. They were nice. A bit vapid, perhaps, but nice nonetheless. After a while, I stopped having to remind myself to smile. After a while, I stopped inwardly cringing at some of the more childish remarks that drifted into the chatter. After a while, I felt like a normal teenager. And it felt nice.

And then time stopped.

My social guide, Jessica was her name as I'd been able to determine through conversation, had introduced me to yet another person, and I was looking across the table at them, smiling my "nice to meet you smile" and answering the same basic questions I'd been asked all day, when the newcomer moved and my gaze was drawn behind them. My eyes had wandered just for a moment, shifting naturally as they followed a new set of people to their table across the room, marking their motion. Just one moment of broken focus.

A moment was all it took.

My breath stuttered in my chest and my heart froze.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move.

I had seen beautiful people before. I had stood idly by with Renee, watching as they filmed the occasional movie in Downtown Phoenix. I had come across a random celebrity or two in shopping malls and restaurants. I had seen beautiful people before and never found them impressive. But this was different.

I stared openly as five unearthly creatures approached what was clearly their regular table. I gawked as five angels dropped gracefully into their seats, barely looking at each other and scattering their focus to opposing sides of the room. I gaped as their stillness gave me the opportunity to examine them in greater detail.

They were… beautiful. But it was so much more than that. They were ethereal. They were transcendent. Their looks and demeanor were almost alien. They were, to be short, perfect.

There were three boys and two girls, though they looked more like men and women. The two girls were physically divergent, one tall and statuesque with golden blonde hair and a face and body that would make a supermodel green with envy. The other girl was short and pixie-like, with a devastatingly sweet face and a cropped mop of black hair which stuck out from her head in artfully shattered little spikes.

The boys were… wow. The biggest one was obscenely muscled, his sculpted arms and chest twitching at the slightest movement. He had short brown hair and an intimidating, masculine face which would melt into an occasional smile whenever the blonde girl leaned over and said something to him. Next to him was a lankier blonde one with sharp features and impossibly perfect posture. He looked as though he was uncomfortable about something, and relaxed only at the occasional touch of the pixie situated to his right. Against the wall, situated slightly away from the rest of his group, sat the last boy. He was… amazing. His hair was the color of bronze, a color I didn't even know existed. It was wild and messy and… tempting. I suddenly felt the impetus to walk across the room and run my hands through it, an urge that I had never before experienced. He sat back in his chair, his long legs sprawling out to the side of the table, and he engaged in chit chat with his friends only occasionally.

He looked like a loner. He looked like he was misunderstood. He looked like… me.

"Jessica," I said quietly, leaning over to my new friend. "Who are those kids over there?"

She followed my gaze, though it was clear from her expression that she hadn't needed to.

"Oh. Those are the _Cullens_," she smirked.

"The Cullens?" I asked, confused. "You mean they're _related_? They don't look alike."

And they didn't look alike. They all had decidedly different features and bearings. The only common thread was their coloring. While they had different builds and faces, each of the five had the same marble white skin. They were, without contest, the palest people in the room and, in a town without sunshine, that was saying a lot.

Conversation at my table stopped and everyone leaned in, as though a part of the same organism. Apparently, I had inadvertently stumbled into a much favored piece of gossip, and my new friends were only too happy to educate me.

"They're not related," a girl with long, ash-blonde hair told me, her eyes sparkling. "They're adopted."

"Adopted? But they look so old…"

"Dr. Cullen adopted them all," Jessica picked up, annoyed at her friend's interference. She clearly enjoyed being the center of attention. "They're his foster kids or something."

"That's really nice," I said, turning the idea over in my mind. "He must be an amazing man to take in so many kids."

"Well, his wife can't have kids or something," Jessica said dismissively. "Besides, they're actual siblings. Rosalie and Jasper Hale are twins," she said nodding towards the two blondes at the table. "And Edward, Emmet, and Alice are brother and sister," she nodded towards the remaining three. "Jasper and Rosalie were Mrs. Cullen's sister's kids or something. She died in a car crash."

"That's terrible," I said, my mind reeling. I couldn't imagine losing my mother.

"That's not the best part though," the girl next to Jessica began again, clearly not realizing how insensitive her choice of words was, "the best part is that they're all _together_."

I looked around my table to find that everyone's faces had broken into excited grins. They were hoping for a shocked reaction from me. A gasp, an eyebrow raise, anything. I certainly wasn't going to give it to them.

"What do you mean 'together'?" I asked flatly.

"They're couples. Jasper and Alice, Rosalie and Emmet. And they _live_ _together_," Jessica squealed, bringing her hands to her face and bouncing a bit in her chair. "Can you _believe _it?"

They're couples. Hmmm. Well, no wonder everyone was so excited to tell me about this. Even in Phoenix, this would have been a major topic of conversation. In a small town, it assuredly a downright scandal. Still, they weren't related. They'd clearly been through a lot in their lives. Maybe it was bound to happen. Maybe it was what they needed to get through the hard times. Who was I to judge?

"They're not related, though, Jess," the girl sitting next to me argued, leaning towards her and shaking her head reproachfully. "They've been through enough. Leave them alone."

I looked at my neighbor, surprised. She had brown hair and kind eyes and an honest face. On the mere basis of her ready defense, I liked her immensely.

"Whatever, Angela. You know it's weird."

Angela leaned back, smiling apologetically at me before turning to talk to the boy seated next to her.

"Which one is _he_?" I asked, pointing as inconspicuously as possible to the boy with the bronze hair.

"Oh. That's Edward Cullen," Jessica huffed, spitting out his name with noticeable malice.

And then he turned. He turned to us as though he'd heard her say his name, which would have been impossible, of course, in the noisy lunch room. But all the same, he turned reflexively and gazed lazily at Jessica for a moment before shifting his focus to me.

His eyes met mine.

I couldn't breathe again.

His eyes kept mine.

I couldn't think.

His eyes wouldn't relent.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't talk.

I couldn't function.

I was entranced. Entranced by a boy I'd never spoken to. Entranced by a boy I'd never laid eyes on until minutes ago. Entranced and curious and, above all else, _attracted_. After seventeen years of only a minor interest in the male population, of feeling like a poser in the world of relationships, this boy had reminded me that I was a woman with only a sweep of his eyes. I was screwed.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up, though," Jessica said, noting my intense stare. "He doesn't date. Apparently, no one here is good enough for him."

Aha. So she had tried and failed. No wonder she was so quick to throw his family under the bus.

Her childish remark brought me out of my reverie and I quickly averted my gaze to the table in front of me, feeling my face flush a deep crimson and my lips curl inadvertently into a small smile. I stole another quick glance up, and found that he was smiling, too.

The bell rang signaling the end of lunch, and I watched him walk out with his family, noting with bitterness the way each of them walked, visions of sheer grace and perfection. I would never be able to walk like that. I would never be able to look like that.

Leave it to me to choose someone so inaccessible for my first crush.

Edward Cullen was beautiful and appealing and the epitome of perfection.

And, of course, I didn't stand a chance.

**A/N: I've completely left my Darkness and Light universe. Well, not completely, but I was growing tired of editing and decided to simply re-write. Which means these will be entirely different stories. Which means I will return to Darkness and Light when the mood strikes and give you some more gooey Edward/Bella drama. **

**Anyway, review please. See that button, just under this sentence? Click on it. Type something. You know you want to.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I have a math exam to study for and a storyboard to draw… guess what I'm doing right now. ;)**

**The recognizable characters are not mine. The things I put them through, however, are almost entirely of my own doing.**

**Chapter Four**

"So, Bella," Angela began shyly as she walked with me to my next class, "what do you think of Forks _really_?"

I laughed a bit and looked over at her, a small smile playing on her lips, making her reserved face light up.

"It's, ummm…"

"Yeah, I know," she said and laughed along with me as we continued towards the Biology classroom. I had found out during lunch that she was in my next class, and was beyond grateful for the happy coincidence. I had only known Angela for a little while, but I could tell that she was going to become a good friend. For the first time all day, I was relaxed and happy.

"So what's this class like?" I asked her as we approached the building.

"Thrilling," she said, rolling her eyes and smiling again. "Really, Mr. Banner's nice. Just act like you're paying attention."

"Pretend to pay attention," I repeated. "Check."

"Oh, and try not to fall asleep during class. Tyler Crowley did that last week, and Banner didn't seem to appreciate it too much."

We looked at each other and laughed lightly again as we walked into the classroom together. Angela touched my arm lightly and directed my attention towards an older looking man rifling through papers in the corner of the room.

"Good luck," she whispered, and continued down the aisle to her lab table.

I smiled broadly at her and crossed the room towards my new teacher, feeling truly confident for once. I cleared my throat a few feet behind him, and he turned at the sound, looking at me quizzically.

"I'm Isabella Swan," I said, handing him my schedule and the paper he was to sign. "It's my first day."

"Ms. Swan, of course," he said, smiling at me and pulling a pen out of his pocket to sign my slip. "I'm Mr. Banner, and welcome to Biology. We have one student without a lab partner, so you should even out our numbers rather nicely. Here is a textbook and a syllabus," he said, striding over to his desk and rifling through drawers as he handed me my supplies, "and you will find your partner back there." He pointed down the aisle towards the back of the room and the only empty seat, giving me another smile before returning to his work in the corner.

Holding my book to my chest, I walked towards the back of the classroom and the indicated seat, feeling dozens of pairs of eyes on me as I traveled, the self-consciousness I had been a slave to all day washing over me once more. Angela caught my eye as I passed her table and gave me an encouraging smile, and I once again felt relief that I had made an actual friend today.

I was halfway through the room, halfway down the aisle, halfway through the gauntlet of inquisitive eyes and whispered conversations when I saw him. Edward Cullen. Sitting at a table with one empty seat. My seat. My lab partner. Oh shit.

He was at the back table, the table Mr. Banner had meant for me to sit at. His posture was hunched, his face tense, and he looked nothing like the relaxed boy I had seen in the cafeteria moments ago. He looked stressed and tired and… angry.

I froze, unable to force my body forward. Aside from my initial physical reaction to him, aside from the attraction and the curiosity I felt towards him, another emotion was pushing itself forward, making itself known, keeping me where I was and not allowing me to proceed.

Fear.

I was afraid of him.

His posture, his face, his manner… he looked furious.

He was bent over the table, his fists tightened into angry balls, his face tight with tension, and his eyes… his eyes were coal black. His eyes were livid. He held me under his murderous gaze, looking more spiteful than he had any right to be. He looked disgusted by my very presence. He looked tormented.

And I was afraid.

I stood in the center of the room for god knows how long until the titters of my classmates became so loud that I was broken out of my reverie. I was making a spectacle of myself. I looked crazy. I had to move. I had to move _now_.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, taking a calming breath before willing my right foot forward, then my left. I was walking. I was getting closer. I was fine. This was fine. It would be fine.

I was two tables away. I was one table away.

My foot caught on the stool next to me and I tripped, my new textbook flying forward out of my arms and hitting…

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

Seriously?

Holy shit.

Fuck.

Why me?

I watched helplessly as my body fell forward, watched my book as it hurtled through the air towards its inevitable destination. Edward Cullen's head. The book flew forward, clipping him sharply in the temple with a muted thud before clattering loudly to the floor.

Fuck.

Time stood still. The earth stopped spinning. It was just me and him in an empty room, staring at each other in disbelief. The anger on his face had cleared for a moment, being replaced by shock at what had just happened. I felt my face turn pink, then red, then another shade entirely. I vaguely registered a throbbing feeling in my wrist and looked down to find my hand twisted at an uncomfortable angle. I had instinctually thrown my arms out to break my fall, and it looked as though I had once again sprained my wrist.

Glancing up at Edward Cullen again, I found that his expression had changed. His body was halfway out of his seat, and he was looking down at me with a mixture of fury and concern spread across his face. He looked as though he couldn't decide whether to help me up or kill me where I lay. It was confusing. It was distracting. It was…

"Ms. Swan, Mr. Cullen, are you alright?"

The voice of Mr. Banner broke through my inner turmoil, and I was startled as the world around me seemed to start up again. I turned to find the teacher standing over me, looking back and forth from Edward to me as though watching a heated tennis match. The students around us remained rooted to their seats, clearly having been told to stay put. Most of them were shaking with silent laughter and whispering to each other behind open palms, but there were a few worried faces in the crowd, and I saw Angela's look of concern immediately.

"I'm fine, sir," I heard a velvet voice say above me, and I looked up to see Edward Cullen standing next to the teacher, his face arranged into a carefully bored expression. "No damage done."

I gaped at him openly from my position on the floor. That book had hit him _hard_. I had felt its velocity when it left my hands, had heard the noise it made when it made contact with his head. He should, at the very least, have a headache. But he really did appear fine. His body language was tense but casual, his face blank, his eyes… well, the hatred was still there. And I noticed immediately that he seemed to be doing his level best not to look at me again. I didn't blame him. I had just thrown a rather large textbook at his skull. I wouldn't want to look at me either.

"Ms. Swan?" Mr. Banner asked, looking down at me.

"I'm… I'm alright," I muttered, trying to remember how to use my vocal chords. "I just tripped."

"Yes," Mr. Banner said, leaning over to offer me his hand and help me up, "you did."

Biting my lip, I accepted his hand and braced myself against the floor, willing my legs to stand and wincing at the slight pressure it caused against my sore wrist.

"You've hurt your hand," Mr. Banner said, nodding towards my now swelling wrist and looking at me in concern. "Ms. Swan, I think you should go to the infirmary. You as well, Mr. Cullen."

"I'm really fine, sir. I don't require any attention," Edward said smoothly, and I found my eyes trained on his lips, unable to believe that such a beautiful sound could come from anyone's throat.

"I'm sure you don't, Mr. Cullen, but better safe than sorry," Mr. Banner persisted, walking me towards the door and giving Edward a look that demanded he follow.

"Mr. Cullen, please see yourself and Ms. Swan safely to the infirmary. I will be calling the office to let them know to expect you both. Ms. Swan, do take care of that wrist."

He bustled us out of the room and into the hall, and with a significant look at Edward, waved us off before closing the classroom door behind us.

Edward looked at me and I looked at him.

This would be nothing if not interesting.

**A/N: Holy total plot change, Batman! That was fun. Let me know if you liked it. It was short cause, you know, I have work to do and whatnot. The next chapter will probably be a good deal longer. And there's nothing like a cliffie to get you in the mood to write again.**

**Click review now. Do it. You know you want to. Please?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Still haven't done a damn bit of homework. Yay me. **

**You know the drill. I don't own this crap.**

**Chapter Five**

I stood in the hallway with the too beautiful boy, shuffling my feet uncomfortably and drowning in the humiliation I felt now that the shock of my fall had worn off. I had just inadvertently hurled a textbook at the first boy I've ever had a crush on. We'll ignore the fact that he had looked at me with utter disgust and fury before I'd even tripped. Even without that pain and aggravation, I had successfully created enough personal drama in a matter of ten minutes to last me the rest of the school year. So much for "new Bella."

"I'm… I'm sorry," I said quietly, looking up from the floor to meet the eyes of the beautiful boy in front of me. "I hope you're not hurt."

Edward looked as though he was going to laugh for a moment, just for a moment. His face softened and the corners of his lips curled up enticingly… but then the hard mask was back. He snorted instead and spun on his heel, walking away from me and out into the rain before my mind could even register his absence. Startled by his sudden retreat, I hurried off to follow him. I had no idea where the nurse's office was and, regardless of the embarrassment I had just suffered, I needed his help to find it.

I sprinted down the short corridor of the Sciences building, out the door, and into the pouring rain, surprised by the deafening sound the raindrops made as they hit the metal awning above me. Frantically, I looked around, trying to locate Edward's form on one of the three walkways that branched from the building. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that my school map would probably show me exactly where I needed to go, but it was the principle of the matter at this point. Mr. Banner had told Edward to go with me, and, damn it all, he would. I noticed a quick movement out of the corner of my eye, and turned down the path to the left of me to follow it, jogging briskly along the slick pavement until I noticed what looked like a white shirt, dark jeans, and bronze hair ahead of me, walking towards the parking lot.

"Hey!" I called after him, barely registering what I was doing. I looked like an idiot. I didn't need him to walk me anywhere. If he didn't want to be around me, I shouldn't have forced my presence on him, but… I just wanted to be near him for as long as possible. I wasn't used to these absurd feelings of attachment, of near obsession, and I was beginning to resent them.

I watched helplessly as he approached a silver Volvo in the student lot, drawing an oblong black rectangle out of his pocket and pressing into it, his headlights flashing. He was leaving.

"Well, fuck you, too," I muttered quietly, turning around and walking quickly back the way I came. "There's no reason to be rude. What an asshole. It was an accident. It's not like I _meant_ to--"

"The infirmary is in the other direction."

Great. Awesome. Fabulous. Wonderful. If I wasn't embarrassed enough before, I certainly was now.

I turned slowly in the direction of that amazing voice, knowing without looking who had just spoken to me, but needing to look at him out of… well, out of need.

And there he stood: Edward Cullen. His white shirt was soaked and clung to his chest in an obscenely sexy fashion. His bronze hair was darkened by the rain drops that clung to it, even more disheveled and beautiful in its wet state.

Fuck.

How much has he heard?

Play it off, Swan. He probably didn't hear a thing.

"I thought you'd left," I said quietly, tearing my gaze from the wet pavement to search his face. His black eyes met my brown ones, but the hatred I had noticed earlier was diluted. He still seemed angry, uncomfortable, but he wasn't as furious as he had seemed before.

"I needed something from my car," he shrugged, gesturing behind him towards the student lot. "Anyway, Banner told me to take you to the infirmary, and that's what I'm going to do. I always do what I'm told."

"How nice for you," I muttered, falling into step beside him. He was being nice, though… sort of. I should return the treatment.

"I _am_ sorry, you know," I said, gesturing towards his head and smiling weakly.

"Trust me, I'm fine, Bella," he said dismissively, jamming his hands into his pockets.

I froze, stopping a few paces behind him, and he turned to look at me.

"What?"

"How'd you know my name?"

"You're the Police Chief's daughter. It's a small town. _Everyone_ knows your name."

I thought about that for a moment. He was right, of course. Everyone had known my name all day. But there was something else, something not quite right…

"But you called me 'Bella,'" I persisted, biting my lip. "Why'd you call me that?"

"Isn't that what you prefer?" Edward asked, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Well, yes, but nobody's called me that today. Everyone's called me 'Isabella' today, and I stopped correcting people. How did you know to call me that?"

His eyes hardened and his mouth dipped into the slightest of frowns. He looked confused. And then he looked angry again.

"Do you want to go to the nurse or not?" he asked, his tone conveying his annoyance.

I looked down at my wrist, red and swollen from the sprain, and hugged it tightly to my chest, looking back at him.

"How did you know to call me that?" I persisted.

"I must've heard people talking about you, alright? Frankly, I don't care. It doesn't matter. Let me just take you to the damn nurse before your hand falls off."

He stalked off ahead of me, slowly enough that I could follow this time, and led me wordlessly across the campus to the infirmary, which was apparently housed in the same building I had been to this morning to retrieve my class schedule. Mrs. Cope looked up from her desk as we entered, smiling warmly and a bit too flirtatiously at Edward before tightening her face at me as I came in behind him.

"Edward," she exclaimed, her voice girlish and high, "what can I do for you, dear?"

"Bella needs to see the nurse," he said, gesturing towards me and crossing the room to the appropriate door. "Mr. Banner should have called us up."

"Yes, of course, dear, of course he did. He said something about an accident?"

"Bella tripped," he said curtly before swinging open the nurse's door and ushering me inside, closing it behind him without another word to the fawning Mrs. Cope.

The infirmary was pretty standard. Grey linoleum flooring, white walls, two small cots, and a medium-sized desk filled the room, along with the strong odor of rubbing alcohol. A chubby woman stood up, greeting us and introducing herself to me as Ms. Reynolds. She inspected my wrist and immediately agreed with my diagnosis that I had, indeed, sprained it. She handed me an ice pack, instructing me to leave it on for at least an hour, and turned her attentions to Edward.

"Mr. Banner said something about you hitting your head," she said, reaching for him, but he ducked out of her way.

"I don't require any attention," Edward said stiffly, albeit politely. "Please attend to Bella."

"Bella has been attended to," I muttered from my cot, shooting him a look.

"Edward, if you've injured your head," Ms. Reynolds began again, but her efforts went unrewarded.

"My father is more than qualified enough to examine me should I experience any discomfort."

The nurse sighed, turning away from him and looking at me again.

"How's the ice feeling?"

"Uncomfortable, but I'll be fine."

"Well, you're welcome to stay if you like, or you can leave with the ice pack. You should see a doctor within the next couple of days to make sure it's just a sprain, but I really didn't notice anything that would suggest something worse."

"Thank you," I said smiling at her, "I've had worse. Trust me."

I rose then, stepping out the door as Edward opened it for me and beginning to stride across the office when I sensed I was no longer being followed.

"Mrs. Cope," a velvety voice behind me purred, and I turned to find Edward leaning flirtatiously across the counter towards the woman. "I have a terrible headache. Would you mind if I went home early today?"

"Of… of course not, Edward," the poor woman stuttered, breathing rapidly and looking as though she might faint. He was laying it on pretty damn thick. "You just go feel better. I'll take care of everything."

He nodded at her, smiling, and turned towards me, quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't think Bella feels very well either, Mrs. Cope," he said seriously, still watching me. I shook my head slightly in protest at his statement, just enough that he could see it, but he persisted. "And I doubt she can drive safely with that wrist of hers. I think I should drive her home. Could you take care of that for us as well?"

She looked affronted, but he turned back to her and flashed a truly heart melting smile in her direction, and I watched her resolve melt away in front of my eyes.

"Sure, Edward. Isabella," she called, her voice changing as she spoke my name, "you may as well hang on to that paper I gave you to have signed. Turn it in tomorrow once your last period teacher signs it."

I nodded once and tried to push the door open with my body, my hands busy with my ice and my sprain. I heard a low chuckle behind me and watched as a marble pale hand reached over my head and pressed lightly, opening the door. Sighing, I ducked under his arm and out into the wet air.

I spun around to confront him as soon as the door closed behind us.

"I don't need or want to go home," I spat, glaring at him. "And I don't appreciate being treated like a child."

"Then don't act like one," he sneered, his eyes furious again. I had never seen someone run so hot and cold in all my life, and I had only just _met _him.

"I'm not," I retorted, stomping my foot out of frustration and immediately feeling foolish for doing so.

"Could've fooled me," he chuckled, taking a step towards me. "The roads are wet, and you can't drive with that wrist. I'm taking you home."

"The hell you are."

"Look, I'm trying to _help_ you. Why must you be so goddamn—"

"Isabella!"

I had never been so happy to see someone in all my life.

Angela ran towards us, my jacket in her hand. I had forgotten it in the classroom, blinded by my humiliation.

"Isabella, you left your jacket," Angela breathed, moving to hand me my coat before noticing the ice pressed to my wrist and pulling it back again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Angela. Thank you. It's just a sprain."

She looked at the expression on Edward's face, then back to my own, noting our proximity.

"Isabella, are you _sure_ you're alright?" she asked pointedly, throwing a quick glance in Edward's direction.

"Bella," Edward said curtly, looking at Angela who looked back at him in surprise. "She prefers Bella."

"Oh."

"Angela," I said exasperatedly, thoroughly confused by the boy in front of me, "could you actually do me a favor? I could use a ride home."

I gestured towards my wrist and she smiled warmly at me, Edward's rudeness forgotten for the moment.

"Of course I'll drive you home. No problem."

"Thank you," I said gratefully before turning to Edward and hardening my expression. "So, you see, I'm well-taken care of. No blood on the highway today. You can go now."

"You need to see a doctor." He took a step towards me.

"You have a headache, Edward. Why don't you go take care of it?" He started at my use of his name, his expression changing for a moment, his eyes flickering, but he recovered quickly and bore down on me again. I took a step towards him, refusing to be intimidated.

"You need to see a doctor," he repeated, locking his eyes on mine, stepping towards me again.

We were separated by mere inches at this point, and I could feel his cool, sweet breath on my face. I resisted the urge to inhale deeply, to drink him in. He smelled delicious.

"I'll make that decision for myself, thank you."

"Bella," he breathed, looking down at me seriously, my name sounding almost tender coming from his lips, "I would feel much better if you had your wrist checked out by a professional. Please, Bella, please promise me you'll see a doctor."

My eyes glazed over and for a moment I forgot my name. I forgot where I was standing. I forgot Angela standing next to us, eyeing us quizzically, and the voices of other students as they walked to their classes around us. All that existed in my world was Edward Cullen and his amazing smell and his sexy damn voice.

And then the spell was broken.

"Angela," he said, taking a large step back and turning to face my bewildered new friend, "I would sincerely appreciate it if you would drive Bella to the hospital before driving her home. I will call my father to let him know you're on your way, and you should proceed directly to his office rather than wait in the emergency room. Would you do that for me?"

He hit her with his gorgeous smile again, and I was worried for a moment that Angela might swoon. Instead, she shifted her weight nervously and gave him a weak nod.

"Sure," she breathed, looking at me apologetically.

I had lost.

"Good," Edward said abruptly, nodding once at her and ignoring me entirely. "I'll go let Mrs. Cope know that you'll be driving Bella to the doctor, and I'll make sure that you're excused from your next class. Thank you."

And with that, without one last look at me, he spun around into the building behind us and disappeared.

Angela gave me a look that said "I'm sorry but I couldn't help it," and I smiled back at her weakly, shrugging my shoulders and heading towards the parking lot, my new friend falling into step next to me.

It hadn't been about the doctor. It hadn't been about anything, really. I just didn't like this stranger coming in and rearranging my life. I didn't like him telling me what to do. I didn't like him presuming to know what's best for me.

We reached Angela's car and I slumped into the seat, grateful for the comfortable silence that enveloped us on the drive to the hospital. She didn't feel the need to ask me questions about what she had just witnessed, at least not yet. I was glad for that. I liked her more by the minute.

The silence afforded me the opportunity to think about what had just transpired, and think about it I did. The boy was… insufferable. He was too damn sexy for his own good. His hair, his body, his face, his voice… even his eyes. He was too perfect, too amazing, too unattainable. I resented him for it. I resented him for making me want him against my will, even when he was looking at me like he resented my very existence, even when he was being overbearing, even when he insisted on taking care of me…

And then I realized that I had _liked_ his concern. I had _liked_ being taken care of for once. He had decided that I would feel better if I went home, and he took steps to make it happen. He had been concerned for my injury, worried about my ability to drive safely in my condition, and he had taken steps to protect me. He had taken charge of the situation, decided for me. Nobody had ever done that for me before. I've always had to take care of myself. Every fall, every bump and bruise, Renee would freak out with worry, would turn into a bundle of nerves and panic and I would be forced to comfort her while I took care of myself. Nobody had ever stepped up when I'd been in need, in pain. Nobody had ever taken the reins so that I didn't have to.

Edward Cullen had, in spite of the nasty looks and bad manners, been concerned for my well-being and acted accordingly.

And I _liked_ it. I liked him. I liked…

"We're here," Angela announced, pulling into a parking space and turning to me with a smile. "Let's get this over with, kid."

I nodded mutely. One day in this town, and my entire perspective was changing. I couldn't decide if it was a change for better or worse, but I knew one thing… I don't like change.

**A/N: So, I was going to keep going, but I need to go eat some dinner and thought I'd rather just choose this as a stopping point. I have now entirely diverged from my Darkness and Light plot line, so if you're enjoying this, and you've never read my other story, I'd encourage you to go check it out as you'll find it very different.**

**Again, please review. As those of you familiar with me know, I am nothing if not insecure, and doing new things (like having Edward and Bella talk on their first day of school) freaks me out a bit. Let me know where you see this going, let me know how you feel about it. Show me some love, show me some hate… just show me something, please.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Yeah… this is getting out of hand. Someone make me stop writing, please, before I fail all my classes.**

**Chapter Six**

Dr. Carlisle Cullen was a kind man. He was kind, considerate, well-mannered, and articulate. In short, he was everything his adopted son was not.

Angela had walked me across the parking lot, into the hospital, and right up to the front desk before turning to me with a rather desperate look on her face and explaining to me that hospitals make her nervous and would I mind terribly if she waited at the car. Smiling at her, I gave her a squeeze on the shoulder and told her I'd try not to take too long.

A kind nurse had paged the doctor for me, and I was only mildly surprised to be greeted by such a young, gorgeous man. Given the overall beauty of his adopted children, I had expected much of the same from the doctor himself, and was not disappointed. His hair was a deep blonde, his body lean and sculpted, and his features movie star classic. He was perfect, of course.

"Bella," Dr. Cullen had greeted me warmly, nodding in my direction but not offering me his hand, "I'm Carlisle Cullen. It's lovely to meet you."

He had swept me back to his office and left me there, seated comfortably, as he completed his rounds, apologizing profusely for making me wait on his way out the door. And now here I sat, waiting for the good Doctor's return, once again puzzling over my day thus far.

Seriously, I've been in Forks for just over 24 hours, and already I have a friend, a crush, an injury, and a feud. Talk about Shakespearean drama.

I stood and walked around Dr. Cullen's office, running my fingers over the maple and glass of his desk, taking a moment to look out of the large window that made up the back wall of the office, into the deep green of the woods behind the hospital. The room was small and cozy and warm, filled with beautiful antiques and old-looking oil paintings. Everything was rich and expensive looking, too nice for a hospital office, too nice for Forks. Like the rest of his family, Dr. Cullen seemed out of place in this town.

I had just returned to my seat on the brown, tufted armchair that sat in front of his desk when Dr. Cullen returned, smiling at me.

"Once again, Bella, I do apologize for keeping you waiting," he said kindly, walking around my chair, around his desk, and settling gracefully into the chair behind it.

"Really, Dr. Cullen, it's not a problem. No worries."

"Please, Bella, call me Carlisle."

"Oh… ummm… sure. Carlisle." After 17 years of doctors visits, of late night emergency room trips, of broken arms and sprained ankles and the occasional concussion, no doctor has ever asked me to call him by his first name. It was a bit confusing. But it would have been impolite to refuse, and really there was no reason to be offended by it. He was just being kind. His son should take notes on his father's behavior.

"Now then," Carlisle began, rubbing his hands together and leaning towards me across his desk, "Edward tells me that you hurt your wrist."

"Yes."

"And how did you do that?"

"I tripped over a stool in Biology and fell forward. My wrist broke the fall," I said flatly. This was not anything new for me. The hospital in Phoenix knew me by name by now. Needless to say, I fall… a lot.

"So you had your hands in front of you to brace yourself?"

"Yes."

"That's good, Bella," Carlisle said, nodding approvingly, "it's good that you know how to fall properly."

"Years of practice," I muttered dryly, drawing my injured wrist towards my chest reflexively.

The doctor chuckled before moving around his desk once more, this time standing in front of me.

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked, gesturing towards the hand in question.

"Have at it," I said, extending my arm and flinching slightly at his cold touch as his hands gently encircled my wrist.

"Sorry," he said, noticing my reaction to his temperature, "I'm afraid I run a little cooler than most people."

"It's fine," I replied, smiling, "I'm always too hot anyway."

"Interesting," he nodded, but I wasn't sure if it was in response to my body temperature or my wrist. "Can you wiggle your fingers for me, Bella?"

I complied.

"Wonderful, now, and this will hurt a bit so I do apologize, but could you please move your hand back and forth for me?"

Once again, I did as asked, only grimacing slightly at the pain the motion caused.

"Perfect," Carlisle said brightly, releasing my wrist and placing it gently in my lap. "Well, it's definitely a sprain, and only a minor one at that. I'd be happy to x-ray it if you like, but I can pretty much guarantee you that there's really no need." He looked at me questioningly and I shook my head in response. "Well, then," he continued, "I'd suggest you take some Aleve for the pain and the swelling, apply ice to it for fifteen minutes every three hours or so, and try not to use it too much. You should be good as new in about a week. Do you need a brace?" I shook my head again, and he smiled at me. "Great."

"Thank you, Carlisle. I'm sorry to have wasted your time. I'm sure you're quite busy."

"Waste my time? Of course not. Besides, any friend of Edward's is, of course, a friend of mine," he smiled at me again, and I wondered for a moment what his son had actually told him. Surely he hadn't said we were "friends."

"Yes, well…"

"How are you enjoying Forks, Bella? I understand you just moved here."

"It's just fine," I said evasively, pulling my arms through my jacket, signaling that I was ready to leave. "I only just got here after all."

"That's right. I understand today was your first day at Forks High."

I nodded back at him, confused. Edward Cullen's father was making small talk with me, and I couldn't figure out why. It was nice that he was being so polite, but hadn't he been busy just minutes ago?

"Some first day," he smiled, laughing lightly. "Hopefully tomorrow will go better for you."

"I sincerely hope so," I replied, smiling tightly back at him. This was weird. I turned towards the door.

"Bella," Carlisle called behind me as my hand wrapped around the door knob, "about my son."

I spun to face him. Weird wasn't the word for it anymore. This was surreal.

"Yes?" I asked, regarding him with caution.

"Edward is… well, that is… Edward can be…"

"Yes?"

"Be patient with my son, Bella. He hasn't had it easy these past few years."

"I'll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

"Come back to see me any time, Bella. It was lovely meeting you."

And with that, Carlisle Cullen smiled at me warmly, gave me a final nod, and waved me out of his office.

**A/N: This is me going to do homework now. I realize this was a quickie, but, come on, three chapters in one day. Ya'll best be grateful…. Just kidding. : )**

**You should review, though. Cause I'm going to fail a bunch of stuff tomorrow because of you and Stephenie Meyers and this damn story.**

**Review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, first of all, I got an A on that math exam I didn't study for. Yay. No clue what's going on with my other exam, or the project I procrastinated, but one A so far is nothing to frown at. **

**Secondly, I've received a few questions about whether this story is OOC or not… and I'm not entirely sure how to answer that. I believe I put in the story description that it IS, but I don't feel like I'm straying too far from the essence of the characters, so I don't know that I'd truly call it OOC. Does that make sense? Like, Edward is still Edward, Bella is still Bella (except she has a bit of a backbone and actually **_**emotes**_**), and Carlisle is still Carlisle (though last chapter may have confused some people… he wasn't being creepy, just trying to stick up for his son… who probably had a nice long chat with him before Bella arrived… or maybe not… not spoiling anything). The only truly OOC is Angela, because Bella deserves to have a human friend, and Angela deserves to be a fleshed out character. Seriously, SM wrote **_**Jessica **_**and **_**Mike**_** with more back-story than Angela, and poor Angela's pissed.**

**Anyway, I hope that obscenely long explanation actually answered your questions. **

**Standard disclaimer: I don't own these characters.**

**On with the show.**

**Chapter Seven**

"So, overall, good first day?"

One look across the kitchen table at Angela's sarcastic smile and I was practically on the floor laughing. I laughed until my body ached and tears flowed freely from my eyes. I laughed until my cheeks hurt from smiling so broadly. I laughed until the stress of the day was gone and replaced with a feeling of utter contentment, a feeling I hadn't known in years. I laughed and laughed, and Angela laughed with me.

"Best first day ever," I replied once I'd composed myself enough to speak, my breaths still coming in spasms. "One for the books."

"I should say so," she replied with a nod, her eyes sparkling. "Honestly, Isabella, I've only known you a few hours and I've already witnessed more soap opera-caliber drama than I would have ever thought possible. "

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking down at my hands, "about that…"

"Please, I know we don't know each other that well yet, but you have nothing to worry about. I won't tell a soul, unless you want me to. I am not Jessica Stanley, nor do I feel any impetus to become her. Your Lifetime Original Movie of a day is safe with me. No worries."

"Thanks, Angela," I grinned, fighting the urge to run around the table and tackle her with a grateful hug.

"No worries," she repeated again, smiling back at me. "And you should call me Angie. I hate 'Angela.'"

"Oh, well then you should call me 'Bella'," I encouraged, leaning back in one of the well-worn, wooden chairs that circled the beat-up table.

Angela looked at me then with a look on her face that could only be described as one of pure surprise. Maybe some shock. Maybe some wonderment. No… just surprise.

"You mean," she began tactfully, "that Cullen wasn't just being an ass?"

"What?" I looked at her quizzically, wondering why she would bring up Edward Cullen. And then I remembered. "Oh. That. No. He was right."

"So, you two really got to know each other on that trip to the nurse's office, huh?" my new friend asked carefully, her eyes trained on the table, her fingers tracing scratches on the wood.

"We… talked a bit," I admitted reluctantly, unsure of whether I wanted to confide in her or not. After all, we'd just met. But, still, she'd been so nice and wonderful to me, never asking me uncomfortable questions, never demanding to know what was going on, promising me that she wouldn't tell anyone what she'd witnessed between Edward and I today. "He was just so damn confusing," I blurted after a moment's pause. "I don't know what happened. One minute I thought he hated me, and then I was _sure _he hated me, and then he didn't seem to hate me at all, and then he seemed to almost… I don't know. I mean, he just…"

"Whoa," Angela interrupted, holding her hands up. "Slow down. What happened?"

And I told her everything. I told her everything that happened from the moment I'd seen him in the cafeteria. I went against every instinct I have and told her _everything_. I told her how inexplicably attracted to him I was, how he had looked at me when I'd first seen him in Biology, how he'd taken off after class.

She sat there listened carefully and patiently, nodding in understanding at points and encouraging me to continue at times that I didn't have words. Her expression was one of confusion when I related my conversation with Edward on the way to the nurse's office, and of frustration when I described what had passed between him and me just before she'd approached us outside. I even went so far as to tell her about my meeting with his father. I told her everything and, amazingly enough, I felt lighter afterwards. I felt better.

I have never had a friend like this before, and as I was unburdening myself to her, this girl I had known for less than a day, I realized how empty my life in Phoenix had been. I had confided in Renee on occasion, but never about deeply personal things. I had joined in on the collective bitching of my peers as related to teachers and classmates and fellow students, but I had never really known anything about my "friends" there, nor had they known anything about me. We had merely existed around each other, preferring company to solitude.

And Angela… Angela was amazing. I had never known such acceptance before. She didn't grin or giggle when I expressed my attraction for Edward. She didn't roll her eyes at some of my more childish behavior and reactions to him. She didn't make hurtful comments or brush off my feelings. She had just listened. Amazing.

"Well, Bella," she said, breaking the silence that had stretched between us once I'd finished my story, "what are you thinking? What are you going to do?"

"I don't think there's really anything _to_ do," I replied with a shrug. "I mean, I don't even know if he's going to talk to me again. Sure we're lab partners, but that doesn't make us best friends or anything."

"No," she allowed, "but that doesn't mean that you can't take charge of the situation. Do you like him?"

"No… yes… I don't know. I'm just so fucking confused."

She laughed lightly, lifting me out of my miserable fog.

"Well, when you figure that one out, let me know. Either way, be your own person, Bella. If you don't like something he says or does, say something about it. Stick up for yourself."

"Yeah," I nodded slowly, mulling over that for a moment, "You're right. It's just that… when he looks at me…"

"Uh, yeah… trust me… I know how… distracting… his eyes can get."

"And his lips..."

"And his hair…"

"And his body…"

We looked at each other seriously before dissolving into giggles, stopping only when I heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway that signaled Charlie's return home, followed by the opening and closing of the front door a few moments later.

"I'd better get home," Angela said to me apologetically, gathering her things as she stood up from the table.

"Bella?" Charlie called from the hallway.

"In here, dad!" I yelled, turning to Angela with a small smile as we both approached the doorway.

"There you are, Bells," Charlie said enthusiastically, running into us on our way out of the kitchen. "Why isn't your car out front? And who is this?"

"I'm Angela Weber. It's nice to meet you."

She extended her hand and Charlie took it, shaking it once before looking at me with a smile.

"Guess you had a good first day then, Bells?"

"Amazing," I said sarcastically, causing Angela to snort next to me.

"One for the books," Angela agreed, smiling beside me. "Anyway, Bella, Chief Swan, I need to get going."

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Angela," Charlie said, moving to the side so we could pass him in the hallway. "Next time be sure to stay for dinner."

"Dinner!" I cried, slapping myself on the forehead with my braced arm, "I completely forgot, dad. I'm so sorry."

"Bella, what happened to your hand?" Charlie asked with concern, eyeing the brace on my wrist warily, and getting another snort out of Angela.

"I'll explain in a bit, dad. I'm fine, really. Let me just see Angela out."

"It was nice meeting you, too, Chief Swan," she called over her shoulder as she followed me towards the front door, smiling.

We made it outside before dissolving into laughter again, walking slowly to her car and making jokes about sprained wrists and hypnotic eyes and overprotective parents.

"Do you need a ride tomorrow morning?" Angela asked, climbing into her car.

"That would be great," I said, smiling appreciatively. "Let me give you my cell number. Just text me when you're on your way."

"No worries," she said, entering my number into her phone and giving me a friendly smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Bella. Try not to let anything interesting happen to you tonight. I don't think you can handle much more intrigue today."

"I'll lock myself in my room and go right to bed," I replied. "Not like anything can happen to me if I'm asleep."

"Good plan."

"I think so, too. Good night, Angie. Thanks so much."

"No problem, Miss Bella. Sweet dreams."

**A/N: Outrageously short, with no plot motion whatsoever, but now Angela is a part of Bella's life, so good times. Let me know what you think.**

**Press that review button… now.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So, once more, thanks for the reviews. They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially when they're pertaining to pure fluff. You guys rock. Seriously. I hope this story is making you happy. I promise I'll return to Darkness and Light at some point… I just sort of wrote myself into an unhappy corner over there… I need to work out how to write myself back out of it.**

**Some of you have expressed a need for some Edward time, and I'm not sure if you're going to get it in this chapter, so I apologize up front. It should be obvious by now that I don't really know where my stories are going… I just let them take me. But I miss him, too, so hopefully he'll grace us with his presence this chapter.**

**Please keep reviewing. I've PM'd a few of you, asking questions about some issues you've had with some of the chapters. I'd encourage all of you to PLEASE PM me and give me your ideas and your concerns. I don't want you to quit reviewing (as I only read stories with high review counts, I'm pretty sure most others do as well, and the more reviews I can rack up, the more people I can assault with my crappy prose), but I would like to encourage a bit of dialogue between us. I'm increasingly becoming convinced that I'll never have a Beta, and I probably shouldn't, but keeping up correspondence on ideas would help me considerably.**

**Nothing like a long-ass AN to brighten my day. Half of you probably skipped this, and I don't blame you in the least.**

**I don't own this. Fuck my life.**

**Chapter Eight**

"So, Miss Bella, are you ready for round two?"

Angela's eyes sparkled as she smirked conspiratorially at me from across her ancient Honda, hitching her backpack over her shoulder as she walked around the car and nudged me jovially with her elbow before setting off across the parking lot. I fell into step beside her, smiling lightly, buoyed by my new friendship.

"Are you kidding?" I asked sarcastically. "Bring it."

We laughed together as we crossed the lawn in front of the school, nodding and smiling as the occasional person stopped to greet one or both of us. There were still many stares and many whispers in my direction, but they were less intense than they had been yesterday, and that helped me relax a bit.

"Alright, Miss Bella, I'm afraid this is where I get off," Angela said, gesturing to the History building and giving me a light wave. "I'll see you at lunch, kid."

I smiled and waved back before continuing on to the English building, pleased that I was able to find it again without the aid of my school map.

Moving confidently across the small campus, my smile of contentment still plastered on my face, I began to feel happy that I had moved here. Sure, it was dark and rainy and oppressively boring, but I had a friend now. It seemed silly to celebrate such a small achievement, especially since the friend was singular and not plural, but it made me feel lighter, airier, happier. It made me feel _normal_. Normal was not something I was used to feeling. Normal was a big step for me.

Still grinning like a moron, I walked into my first class, pausing to hang my coat on the hook by the door, and took the seat in the middle of the room that had been assigned to me yesterday. I watched with interest as people shuffled through the door, engrossed in their own little conversations or texting madly on their cell phones, trying to remember who I'd shaken hands with yesterday, trying to remember names and faces and who, if anyone, had other classes with me as well. I was trying hard to place a blonde boy with spiky hair in the row in front of me when a male voice to my right broke my concentration.

"Hey, Bella. How was your first day?"

I looked over, startled, into the face of the boy next to me. He had walked me to my American Government class yesterday. He had introduced himself. He had been one of the few people I'd asked to call me "Bella" before I'd given up. He had remembered. That was sweet.

"It was fine, Eric. Thanks for asking."

He grinned at me, ecstatic that I'd remembered who he was, and I returned his smile with a small nod.

"Forks not boring you to death yet?" he joked, running his hand through his hair nervously.

"Not quite," I replied, rolling my eyes at him. He laughed a little too loudly at my response, and, after years of hearing boys laugh too loudly and smile too broadly at me, I knew what was coming next.

"Well," he began, looking at me intently before dropping his gaze to the floor, "if you'd like me to show you around some time… maybe we could go to a movie or something… you know… just so you can get to know the place better… anyway… I'd be happy to show you around… if you like…" His voice trailed off and he began wringing his hands uncomfortably, fidgeting in his seat.

I appraised him clinically, as I had done many times before. This was not new to me. In spite of my anti-social proclivities in Phoenix, in spite of my alienating tendencies, I had been asked out with a moderate amount of frequency. I had even gone on a few dates, held a few hands, kissed a few boys, gotten groped uncomfortably in the backseats of a few cars. None of my past experiences had amounted to much, most of the "relationships" ending almost as quickly as they began, but I had tried to conform to the norms of my peers, and dating had been a necessary evil.

And now it was decision time. I looked at Eric, looked at his lank black hair, his acne-marred face. He was not attractive to me, but I could see that he would probably grow up to be better looking. His features were quite nice, and he had rather expressive eyes. He would probably be rather handsome one day. But I really wasn't interested. To be frank, though, he could have been anyone and I still wouldn't have been interested. Dating has never been fun for me, and I was reluctant to commit to going out with someone so soon. Still, he was a terribly nice boy and I did not want to hurt his feelings.

"That's really sweet, Eric. Maybe we could put a group together and go out and do something next weekend."

His face fell, but he recovered quickly.

"Sounds great. I'll see what I can do."

Class began then, allowing Eric a reprieve from the rejection hanging between us and allowing me time to think. I hadn't thought about dating. I hadn't thought about boys.

Well, to be fair, I _had_ thought about _one_ boy. I had thought about him all night last night, from the moment Angela left until the moment I woke up this morning. I had thought about him while I explained how I had hurt my wrist over dinner with Charlie. I had thought about him while I chatted with Renee on the phone later that night. I had thought about him through homework and sitcoms and four chapters of _Jane Eyre_. He had come to me in my dreams, his voice and his eyes and his lips consuming my subconscious. He had stayed with me when I woke, following me as I moved blearily through my morning routine. He had stayed with me until I had gotten into Angela's car and, after a brief discussion with her during the drive to school, declared that I would not think of him for the rest of the day.

Edward Cullen.

I had sworn the oath a mere half hour ago and he was already making a liar out of me.

Another boy asks me out, and Edward Cullen pops into my mind.

This so isn't happening.

He was just so enigmatic to me. It was enticing, compelling. I found most people so vapid, so flat, so transparent. Not him, though. He was impossible to read. He was even more impossible to understand. He was just… fuck it… he was _amazing_.

Alright, Swan. Stop it. Right now. I mean it. _Stop it_.

One conversation with this… person… and you're… well, what are you?

What am I?

What is this?

He was angry and terse and haughty and controlling and rude and just so… ugh. He was just so sexy. So beautiful. So unlike anyone I have ever met. So unlike anyone I will ever meet. He was just everything.

Everything.

But this is absurd. This is beyond absurd. I had thought of him all night with a sort of complacency, allowing myself to linger over the memories of his body so close to mine outside of the office, his face inches from my own. I had indulged in ridiculous fantasies, fantasies of his pale hands on my body, fantasies of his beautiful lips pressed against mine. I had acted like a child, something that I had never done before. I had acted like a teenage girl.

I clearly had a crush on him. I had known it from the moment I saw him. I had a crush.

But was it more?

Oh, god… please don't let it be more…

The bell rang, snapping me out of my torturous reverie, and I rose on wobbly legs, noting Eric's swift departure from the classroom. He clearly wasn't walking me anywhere today. I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way towards the door, smiling briefly at the blonde boy I had been trying to place before when our eyes met. My smile seemed to embolden him, and he approached me, a confident smile playing on his lips.

"I'm Mike Newton," he announced, offering me his hand. "We have Biology together, too, and I must say, Isabella, that you have terrific aim."

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Mike Newton is a very nice guy. He makes stupid jokes and possesses all subtlety of a flashing neon sign, but his heart is in a good place, and his interest in me is genuine. He's a very nice guy.

He walked me to American Government, explaining that his next class was in the same building and joking about flying textbooks and sprained wrists the entire way, and walked with me afterwards to Trigonometry, explaining that he didn't want me to get lost and wander into the woods on my way to my math class.

He was a very nice guy. And he was attractive, too. Well, he wasn't attractive to me, but I could see that he was attractive to others. His blonde hair was meticulously gelled into small spikes on top of his head, and his features were somewhat rugged. He had nice blue eyes and was more tan than most in this town of ghost-like complexions. And he laughed too loudly and smiled too broadly. But he didn't ask me out, and for that I was grateful.

He made his way to my table at lunch, much to the delight of Jessica, I noted, and kept everyone laughing with anecdotes about inexperienced hikers and faulty camping gear. His family apparently owned some sort of outdoors shop in town, and he was full of stories about customers. I was grateful for his storytelling, as I'd been afraid I'd have to talk about the incident in Biology yesterday. Of course, at the first polite opportunity, Jessica dragged her attention away from Mike and looked at me expectantly, a sparkle in her eye.

"So, Isabella. What happened to your arm?" she asked, gesturing to the brace on my wrist and trying to arrange her face into an expression of concern.

"I tripped," I answered dismissively, hoping the subject would be dropped but, of course, it wasn't.

"That's not what I heard," Lauren said next to her, smirking at me. "I heard you threw something at Edward Cullen first."

The entire table gasped in mock surprise, but I was not fooled. Clearly they had all discussed this earlier.

"What does that have to do with me tripping?" I asked tightly, not caring to encourage the gossip with any more information than was necessary.

"What did you throw?" Jessica asked, ignoring my question.

"I heard it was your backpack," the boy sitting next to Mike said, looking at me seriously.

"No, I heard it was a paperweight."

"Well, I heard—"

"It was a textbook. She lost her balance and fell, and the book flew out of her hands. She didn't throw anything on purpose. She didn't stab him with a sword, shoot him with a gun, or melt him with lasers from her eyes. Now can we please drop the damn subject and leave her alone? She hurt herself for god's sake."

All eyes turned to Angela, seated next to me, as she punctuated her defense of me with a quick gulp of Sprite, twisting the lid back onto the bottle and replacing it purposefully on the table in front of her, avoiding the surprised faces around her. I'd learned during a chat with Jessica between Trig and Spanish that Angela isn't known for talking much, and her outburst had clearly shocked her friends. Jessica, of course, recovered quickly, immediately turning everyone's attention to herself, batting her eyelashes at Mike. Turning slightly, I shot Angela a grateful smile.

"By the way, Bella," whispered quietly, leaning towards me so that nobody would hear, "Edward wasn't in my English class today."

**A/N: So, yeah. Not sure I'm happy with this. Lemme know what you think. I may go back and edit, or pull it entirely.**

**Review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Edward Cullen had not been present in Angela's English class. He had not been present in the cafeteria.

He was not in Biology.

I walked into the classroom with all the nonchalance I could muster, trying desperately to avoid looking at my lab table, our lab table. My eyes found it anyway, and my face must have fallen at its emptiness as I felt Angela squeeze my arm sympathetically before walking towards her own seat. He wasn't here. Oh well.

Walking back to the empty table and taking my seat was a vaguely traumatic experience. Every step reminded me of what had happened yesterday, and every pair of eyes in the room was focused on me, on my wrist brace. I was surrounded by whispers and giggles and, in that moment, I was flooded with resentment towards my peers. Still, I managed to make it back to my stool without any mishaps, and I perched atop it in as dignified a manner as I could muster, releasing my hair from its ponytail and letting it hang around me like a protective shield. I trained my eyes on the black tabletop in front of me and willed the rest of the world to go away.

Class was boring. We were learning about mitosis, something my AP class had already covered ad nauseam in Phoenix, and I was frustrated by the repetition. This was a waste of my time. I shifted restlessly in my seat, accidentally pushing my pen off of my table in the process and earning some interested stares from the students sitting around me as it clattered to the floor. Again, there were giggles and whispers and wide eyes… this was fucking stupid. It was a _pen_, people. Like _you've_ never dropped anything in your life?

I bent down, snatching it off of the floor and hastening to right myself again, earning a nice little bump on the head in the process as my skull made contact with the corner of the table. People noticed. There was more giggling. I was beginning to understand what the words "crime of passion" meant, and why some people felt so compelled to commit them. My day had gone from good to fine to alright to uncomfortable to bad to worse to hell.

Rubbing my head self-consciously, I tried focusing my attention on Mr. Banner's lecture, but it was just too inane, too basic. I had learned this shit already. Was this really necessary?

My eyes strayed to the empty stool next to me, and I surreptitiously reached my hand out and placed my open palm against the cheap, lacquered wood. Was this why I was so annoyed? Was this why I was so keyed up? This empty stool? The empty chair at his family's table at lunch? The empty desk in Angela's classroom earlier in the day?

_Why wasn't he here?_

Why do I need him to be here?

Why do I need him?

No. Fuck this. I'm not dealing with this. This is stupid, childish, obsessive… one conversation… really, one _argument_… and I'm longing for his presence and rubbing his empty seat and gazing longingly into the distance. No. Don't think so. Grow the fuck up, Swan. This is _so _not you.

I clamped my eyes shut tight, willing my mind to switch tracks, to think of something else, anything else, but all I could see was him. He was everywhere, fogging my brain, clouding my vision, enchanting my senses. My hand curled possessively over his place at our table, stroking it as though the contact with something he had touched would bring us closer together. This was getting ridiculous. This was getting out of hand. I had successfully spent half the day avoiding thinking about him, and now, all at once, these feelings, these feelings from yesterday, from last night, from this morning, were all rushing on me at once, drowning me. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I felt like I couldn't _exist_ without this boy… this boy who I'd only known for a day.

Shit. No. It's just a crush. Nothing wrong with a crush, really. I'm making it into something it's not. I'm making it something more than it is. I'm lending it weight merely because it's my first… my first crush. That's it. Crush. Crush. Crush. Crush.

_Love_. _Love at first sight. Love like Romeo and Juliette. Love like Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett. Love like Mr. Rochester and Jane Eyre. Love that transcends everything. Love that makes you warm and cold and awake and tired. Love that consumes you, makes life worth living. Love that makes you yearn for death. Love._

Fuck.

That.

It's a crush.

Love.

Crush.

Love.

Fine. Fuck it. If I can't shut-up my own subconscious, I'll just have to distract it.

Desperately, I reached down into my backpack, grabbing for the first paperback that I could get my hands on and yanking it up towards me. _Jane Eyre_. No… not today, thank you. Next.

I dove into the bag again, grabbing for another book. _The Inferno_. Score. If I was going to be forced to sit quietly in hell, I may as well entertain myself by reading about it. Throwing my fallback favorite back into my backpack with a grimace, I pulled Dante's most famous work in front of me, grateful for the distraction.

I was almost immediately absorbed in the dense text, letting my imagination run away with me and leaving the classroom full of its judgmental, childish students behind in favor of a world full of pain and torment. Under general circumstances, I preferred romances, dramas, but this… this was perfect.

"Ms. Swan? _Ms. Swan_?"

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought I heard my name, but I was too engrossed in the text to pay it much credence. It wasn't until the hand came down on the table in front of me, rather forcefully, that I remembered where I was and, more importantly, what I was doing.

I was sitting in my Biology class, openly reading something that clearly had nothing to do with today's lecture, let alone the subject matter. I was being disrespectful. I was acting without tact. And, with a feeling of wonderment, I realized that I really didn't care.

I looked up at the person in front of me, registering that it was Mr. Banner's hand that had brought me back into reality, though in all likelihood he probably hadn't slammed it onto the surface with as much force as it had seemed.

"May I ask what you're doing, Ms. Swan?" Mr. Banner's voice was quiet, but the implications of his question were grave.

"I'm…" I thought for a moment, trying to work out what answer would get me into the least amount of trouble. "I'm reading," I replied with a shrug.

"Yes, I can see that. It does not appear that the book in front of you has anything to do with biology. Would I be correct in that assessment?"

"Yes, sir."

"May I ask, in that case, why you find it appropriate to be reading that book in my class?"

I thought about that for a moment, trying to, once more, figure out what would get me into the least amount of trouble. But then, at that moment, with a mere 15 minutes left in the class, a distraction walked through the door. A distraction of impossible beauty. A distraction that made my heart race, my mouth go dry, and my eyes glaze over.

Edward Cullen walked through the door as though class hadn't even begun yet, stepping lithely around our teacher where he stood at the corner of the lab table and taking his place in the empty seat beside me. My body awoke at his sudden proximity, his miraculous appearance, and it took every ounce of strength within me not to throw myself onto him then and there.

"Mr. Cullen. You are thirty minutes late. I trust you have some sort of excuse?"

"No," replied the velvety voice I had replayed over and over in my head for the past day, even more beautiful than I remembered.

"No."

"No," Edward agreed. There was a distinct sneer evident in his tone, but I was afraid to turn and look at him, afraid of what seeing him this close might do to my willpower…

"In that case, Mr. Cullen, you will join me for an hour's worth of detention this afternoon," Mr. Banner snapped, straightening his lab coat on his shoulders before drawing himself up and returning his attention to me. "Now, Ms. Swan, I believe you were about to give me a very good reason why you were reading a novel in my classroom during my lecture."

I glanced around the room, noticing the wide eyed stares of my classmates. I saw Angela watching me with a sort of intense fascination. I saw Mike eyeing me with some apprehension. I saw grins of amusement and whispers behind hands. I surveyed the entire room, before allowing myself a look at the boy next to me, the boy I had been longing to see all day, the boy who had just earned himself a detention…

"I was bored," I blurted out.

"Bored," Mr. Banner pronounced, eyeing me with some incredulity. "Ms. Swan, you mean to say that you find my lecture boring?"

"I've learned this before," I said, allowing impatience to seep into my voice as I raised my eyes to meet his. "This is a waste of my time."

"Oh, no, Ms. Swan," Mr. Banner spat, fixing me with a glare before turning around to stride back to the front of the classroom. "This is a waste of _my_ time. Detention this afternoon. You and your lab partner there will learn some respect."

A blush crept to my face as I realized what I'd just done. I've never been in trouble in my life. Never gotten a tardy, skipped a class, talked back… and I'd just purposefully made a spectacle of myself in order to secure an hour's time with the beautiful stranger sitting next to me. This was _so _not me. What the hell did I think I was doing?

I shook my head, running my fingers absentmindedly through my hair and looking up towards the front of the room. What was I doing?

But then Angela caught my eye, her eyes dancing, a knowing smirk affixed to her face. She knew exactly what I was doing.

Crush, love, who cares? The end of the day could not come fast enough.

**A/N: I was in the middle of reading someone else's fic and I felt like writing so… I did. Obviously. I'll probably update again tonight. I just need to do some ill-advised thinking beforehand. I feel like Bella's getting away from me a bit, and I need to draw her back into her pragmatism.**

**Anyway, please review. Obviously, we have some major Edward/Bella time coming up in the next chapter, and the more reviews I get, the quicker it will get posted. Nothing keeps me motivated like a good, old-fashioned ego stroke. Or a punch in the gut, for that matter.**

**Tell me what you thought. I'm curious.**

**Review.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So, I've had over 1100 hits for this story since midnight, which sort of makes me feel like the great and powerful Oz. Once again, this plotline is getting away from me, and I'm trying to be more thoughtful, do some planning… I don't want another half-finished story on my profile.**

**In any event, here's some nice Edward/Bella action. The bulk of you have been lovely and reviewed, but I've had 45 people add me as a favorite or sign up for story alerts today, and you guys should be reviewing as well. I don't get paid, here, and this isn't the most social of hobbies, so a nice comment or a critique goes a long way towards making me feel less geek-ish… though I'm so totally a geek.**

**Anyway, SM owns this and, thanks to writing my two stories, I can proudly say that I've been Twilight free for a month now. On with the show… : )**

**Chapter Ten**

The bell rang all too soon, signaling the end of a class which had previously seemed too long but, since Edward's sudden appearance, had become entirely too short.

Since taking his seat next to me and dealing with Mr. Banner, he hadn't acknowledged my presence or spoken a word, and I found that this had suited me just fine. I was nervous and guilty and horrified at my behavior. I have never shown disrespect to anyone before, let alone a teacher, and now, here I was, acting irresponsibly and then talking back to boot. This place was changing me. This… boy… was changing me.

His posture for the remainder of class had been tense and, to be honest, more than a bit off-putting. He had maintained a rather pronounced distance from me, moving his stool to the very opposite end of the table and leaning as far away from me as possible. His hands had drawn themselves into tight fists, his already pale fingers going whiter around the knuckles from the tension. His face, when I dared to steal glances at it through the curtain of my hair, had been drawn, blank, impassive, but his eyes told a different story. They burned the deepest shade of amber I'd ever seen, an invisible fire sparking behind the golden orbs. He looked tormented. Maybe he was. I would find out.

Shuffling out of class with the rest of the students, Edward having darted out of class with almost inhuman speed the moment the bell rang, I paused to speak to Angela in the hallway.

"Well aren't you a rebel?" she asked, winking at me and raising her eyebrows in the most absurd manner.

"Bad to the bone," I replied sarcastically, shaking my head. "Seriously, Angie, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I _do_ that back there?"

"You know why you did that," she responded earnestly, all humor gone from her face, "and, Bella, you need to know that it's alright that you did that. Really. Don't feel bad."

"Yeah," I scoffed, "it's totally alright for the Chief of Police's daughter to get detention on the second day of class in a new school in a new town. No big deal."

"You're not just the Chief of Police's daughter, and you can't live your life going by someone else's standards. Really, Bella, it's not like you ripped your shirt off and ran screaming around the room. You were reading a book in class, and you explained to Banner why you'd chosen to do it. There's nothing earth shattering about that. Lighten up."

I just shook my head and looked at her, unable to discuss it any further. There was nothing to be done now. I had detention. I, Bella Swan, have detention this afternoon.

"Thanks, Angie," I said, smiling at her as warmly as I could manage before idly flipping open my cell phone to check the time. "Now get your ass out of here. You'll be late to class."

"You, too, James Dean," she smiled, waving as she turned. "Try not to get arrested on your way to gym."

I smiled and spun towards the door, moving to walk outside, but ran into something quite solid.

"Did I hear the word 'gym'? Because _I_ have gym this period."

Mike Newton was smiling down at me, clearly happy for me to run into him any time I pleased. Still, I was a bit uncomfortable about the proximity, accidental or otherwise, and so I took a step back before returning his smile.

"Awesome. You can show me where it is, cause I obviously didn't make it there yesterday."

Grinning like a fool, Mike led the way, holding the door open for me and giving a slight bow, ushering me through ahead of him. Laughing at his mock formality, I hurried through the door and into the damp, cold air outside, wondering, for a moment, about the flash of copper hair and white skin I thought I'd just seen out of the corner of my eye as I left the hallway, but brushing it off as an illusion.

Obviously I just had Edward Cullen on the brain.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

For the record, gym sucks. Of course, gym sucks even worse when your wrist is in a brace but your teacher won't let you get out of doing calisthenics with the rest of the class. Sit-ups? Seriously? Can someone explain to me how a grade can fairly be formed based on sit-ups?

In any event, I got my slip signed from yesterday, finally, and dropped it off in the office, trying extra hard to be nice to Mrs. Cope in the process. For some reason, she didn't like me. Maybe it was my correcting her at that first meeting. Maybe it was because Edward had talked her into helping me, even though she clearly hadn't wanted to. In any event, it was something. I was sure of it.

I met up with Angela in the parking lot by her car, looking for a little pre-detention pep talk and some quick, friendly advice. I am not generally one to feel helpless, but I was finding it more and more difficult as the day progressed to fight back against it. Other people are volatile, unpredictable, irrational... but I'm not. At least, I didn't used to be. I hate not feeling in control, and Edward made feel too far out of my element to be comfortable.

Of course, this detention, this hour with a boy I was simultaneously fascinated by and terrified of, was all of my own doing. It was my fault. I suck.

"Relax, Bella," Angela said for what must have been the hundredth time. "Just go get it over with. It'll be fine. You'll be fine."

I took a deep breath, sucking in the freezing cold air through my nostrils and letting it escape slowly and deliberately out of my mouth. In and out. In and out. It _will _be fine. _I _will be fine.

"Just _talk_ to him… or don't. Do what you're comfortable with. But, whatever you do, don't let him railroad you again. Don't let him make you feel uncomfortable. You'll do great. You'll see."

"Yeah," I said quietly, "I'm sure. I'll talk to you later, Angie. Have a good day."

Surprisingly, she pulled me into a much needed hug, giving me a quick, encouraging squeeze before pushing me gently back towards the school.

"Call me afterwards," she said, smiling at me and holding up both hands, crossing her fingers. I laughed at the gesture and returned it. "Oh, and Bella!" she called as I walked away, pausing to turn at the sound of my name. "Try not to throw anything this time!"

She collapsed in on herself in hysterical giggles, finding herself hilarious, and I blushed slightly before doing the same, shaking with silent laughter as I walked back to the Science building, back to my fate for the next hour. My ironic smile held as I pulled the door to the building open and stepped inside, held as I walked into Mr. Banner's classroom…

And then it vanished rather abruptly, my face arranging itself into an entirely different expression.

The room was empty, but for one person, now sitting stonily in his seat at our table, gorgeous eyes focused on something out the window.

Edward Cullen.

He was perfect. I hadn't gotten a good look at him earlier in class, and, unable to help myself, I took the opportunity to drink him in. He was wearing a deep indigo long-sleeved t-shirt that clung to his chest and arms in a way that made the room suddenly warmer. His jeans were dark and expensive looking, travelling down his legs and gracefully skimming the tops of his black, square-toed shoes. He looked like a model. He looked like a movie star. He looked like…

My heart dropped into my shoes, and I suddenly became very aware of the fact that we were alone in this classroom, possibly alone in this building.

He must have heard me come in, heard my sudden halt in motion, but he did not acknowledge my presence, and I decided that, rather than stress over this situation, I would let his treatment of me determine my treatment of him. _He_ would define our relationship, and I would just take my cues from his behavior. It seemed much easier than putting myself out there. It seemed much safer.

Right now, he's ignoring me, so I'll ignore him.

Right.

Got it.

Move, Swan.

Damn… I had frozen in this same spot yesterday, too. Two bouts of temporary paralysis in as many days. Hopefully this wouldn't become a habit.

I walked back to our table, unsure of where I should be sitting since Mr. Banner was not yet here to guide me. Edward was in his assigned seat, and I assumed that I should be as well. Once again, I mirrored his behavior.

I took about four steps… and then I tripped.

Yeah.

I know.

Fucking fantastic.

My foot caught a table leg this time, and I flew forward once more, managing to catch myself on the edge of the table in front of me, and suffering only a small jolt to my elbow.

I straightened myself, blushing furiously, sensing a pair of very serious eyes looking in my direction. I dared a peek up, hoping I would be wrong, but I wasn't. Edward was staring at me, his mouth open as if to speak… but he didn't. At least, not yet.

Pulling my shoulders back and holding my head up with as much dignity as I could muster, I walked as confidently as I could to our table, keeping my eyes straight ahead, refusing to look at him.

There.

I made it.

No serious injuries this time.

I didn't throw anything.

That wasn't so bad.

I climbed gracelessly onto the stool next to him, pulling my backpack onto the table in front of me, yanking on it rather hard when one of the straps got caught on a corner of the table and, incidentally, punching myself rather hard in the chin as the strap to the bag gave way suddenly.

"Ouch!" I yelled compulsively, rubbing my chin and wincing. "Shit that hurt!"

"Bella, are you alright?" asked the Adonis seated to my left. He was leaning towards me slightly, a concerned look in his eyes, his face etched with confusion. I met his worried gaze and blinked once, twice…

That was it.

That was too much.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I burst out laughing.

Deep, body shaking laughter that made my cheeks ache and my lungs burn. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see, I couldn't think… I just laughed. I laughed so hard that I lost my balance and nearly fell off my stool, causing me to laugh harder still.

Really, today was ridiculous. This was ridiculous. This was insane. What could I do _but_ laugh?

I struggled to regain my composure when a shift in Edward's posture reminded me of his presence beside me. I turned quickly, locking my eyes with his, still shaking and grinning like a psych patient.

"Good lord, Bella, maybe you should consider wearing a helmet," he said quietly, shaking his head and looking at me like I was crazy.

Well, that was understandable. In that moment, I _was_ crazy… but, in all fairness, it was either react this way or go curl up in the fetal position in the hallway, and I much preferred this way… at least for the moment.

"I'd never do it," I gasped in response, my body still quaking as I fought for control. "I don't look good in hats."

He looked at me a moment, unsure, it seemed, about whether he should smile at my insanity or back away slowly.

"I find that hard to believe," he said, almost inaudibly, shaking his head and seemingly talking to himself. I don't think he had meant for me to hear that, and his brief monologue snapped me out of my delirium.

I sat quietly next to him, a small smile still playing on my lips, unsure of whether I should acknowledge his comment or not. I had just decided against it when Mr. Banner walked in, looking around the room and appearing startled that we would have selected our assigned seats in an empty classroom.

"Ms. Swan, Mr. Cullen," he called, waving us forward, "I have assignments for each of you. There is a staff meeting this afternoon which I had forgotten about, and so I am afraid your detention will be a solitary one. I trust that will be alright with both of you," he narrowed his eyes at us, and I wasn't sure if he was implying that we would prefer for him to be there or not. "In any event, I have a packet for each of you regarding the material you both chose to miss today. Please be thorough in their completion and leave them on my desk when you are finished. Your work will be graded and I urge you to take this seriously. You may leave when you are done. Goodbye."

He handed us both rather thick white packets of paper before offering a curt not and leaving the way he had come in.

"Asshole," I muttered as we listened to Mr. Banner's footsteps retreating down the hallway. Edward eyed me in mild surprise at my language, and I clapped a hand over my mouth, slightly horrified that I'd just said that out loud.

Seriously, who am I and what have I done with Bella?

**A/N: So… this should be longer but I don't have the time to finish it today and I hate to keep you guys hanging. In all likelihood I'll update again tomorrow. Besides, you know you love the suspense.**

**Review, please. You know how much I love it, want it, need it…**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Yay! Writing at work again!**

**Thanks for the reviews… please keep them coming. A few of them have confused me a bit, I'm not gonna lie, but if that's what the story means to you then enjoy.**

**Anyway, I don't feel like talking anymore. I don't own the characters portrayed in this story, merely the language used to portray them.**

**Chapter Eleven**

"So…" I said quietly, looking at Edward for a moment before shuffling my feet awkwardly and gazing intently at the floor.

"So?"

"Never mind," I muttered, sighing like a petulant child and walking back to our lab table to retrieve my backpack and a pen.

He stood rooted to the spot, watching me grab my things and relocate them to a table across the room. He looked confused, curious, frustrated… whatever. Worrying about how I'm being perceived by this boy takes too much damn energy, and I'm tired of putting forth the effort. He's seen my trip like a fool and punch myself in the face already, anyway, so what's done is done.

I took a seat and threw myself into the packet in front of me, knitting my brow and shaking my head slightly when I realized that Mr. Banner had simply compiled a list of AP practice questions pertaining to mitosis. What a jackass. Did he not realize that I had already been taught this on an AP level? Was this supposed to be _hard_? With a dramatic sigh, I began working quickly through the questions, questions I had seen before.

I was halfway through the second page when the feeling of someone standing in close proximity made me look up.

"Do you need any help?" Edward asked, standing on the other side of the table and leaning towards me as though trying to see my work.

"I'm fine," I replied curtly, answering another question before looking back at him again. "Don't you have work to do?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," he said with an all-too-familiar smirk that made my stomach warm and my blood boil.

"Trust me, I don't."

His lips twitched and his expression faltered, but just for a moment. I couldn't tell if I had hurt his feelings or not, but a wave of guilt washed over me and I realized that I was being rude for no reason.

"So, Mr. Cullen," I began with practiced nonchalance, pretending to continue working on the packet in front of me, "where were you today? Anyplace interesting?"

"I was hiking," he replied with a shrug, pulling up a stool so that he could sit across from me.

"You were hiking in the rain?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and ignoring the work in front of me. I hadn't expected that answer.

"Yep."

"So, is rain a prerequisite for all of your hiking excursions?"

"No, just a plus."

"And why is that?"

"The woods are less crowded when it's raining," he said, his lips twitching again, "less people."

"A chance to commune with nature on a more personal level?"

"Something like that."

"Ah," I nodded, still not understanding.

"So what about _you_, Ms. Swan?" he purred, leaning closer, suddenly making it very difficult for me to focus with his lips so close, his eyes so intense…

"What?" I asked blearily, trying to buck the affect his proximity was having on me.

"What was up with the book during class? You don't strike me as the type."

"Oh," I said brilliantly, shaking my head slightly to try to lift the fog from my brain. "I was bored… I was trying to distract myself."

"Distract yourself from…?"

"My thoughts," I answered without thinking. Uh-oh. This could open up a very uncomfortable line of questioning…

"And what were you thinking about?" he smoldered, batting his eyes at me and placing a hand under his chin, propping his elbow on the table in a classic thoughtful pose.

"Nothing," I replied, too quickly.

"It does not seem like you would require a distraction from nothing."

"Nothing is boring," I countered. "I'm not fond of boredom."

"I would wager a guess that the bulk of your time spent in school could be classified as 'boring.' Do you read during every class?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as though trying to figure me out from another angle.

I shook my head.

"I didn't think so. So why did your particular line of thought today require such a conspicuous distraction?"

"Why did you feel the need to cut the first half of school in favor of a hike, only to return at the end of the day, with fifteen minutes left in class, and with no explanation for your absence?" I argued, cocking my head to the side, mimicking his posture from a moment ago.

"Touche," he muttered, drawing back a bit and looking at me uncertainly.

"Well?" I prodded.

"I, too, was trying to distract myself, I guess," he said cautiously.

"From what?"

We looked at each other across the table, eyes locked, hands twisting uncomfortably. This had escalated rather quickly into a sort of standoff. I had lost too much power over the past couple of days with him witnessing my clumsiness, my childishness. I needed to win this. I needed him to capitulate first.

He made a move to stand, but my hand shot out and gripped his arm, willing him to stay put. It was a reflexive gesture, and the action itself shocked me more than the temperature of his skin. His arm was like ice. Instinct told me to remove my hand from him immediately, both because of the startled look on his face and the freezing shock of his flesh, but I did not. I kept my hand in place, curling my fingers into his forearm and trying not to pass out from the life-altering feeling of my skin touching mine. In spite of his shockingly low body temperature, I felt a warmth spread through the parts of my hand that were touching him, as though we were generating a sort of buzzing electricity through our contact.

"From what, Edward?" I repeated, lowering my voice and keeping my eyes locked on his.

"Does it matter?" He asked softly, creasing his forehead, furrowing his brow.

"It does to me."

"Why, Bella?" his voice was still quiet, but it reverberated full of an emotion that I couldn't quite place.

I sat for a moment, dropping my gaze to look at where my hand rested on top of his pale arm, almost expecting to see sparks coming off of us where our skin was connected. Did I want to answer his question? No. Would I do it anyway? Yes. Because it felt too fucking good to touch him, to talk to him like this, and I wasn't about to ruin it by drawing into myself. I wasn't about to hide.

"Because you fascinate me. Because I'd like to understand you. Because I'd like to know what is going on in your life that necessitates a hike by yourself in the rain in the middle of a school day."

"Oh."

"Oh."

He withdrew his arm gently, lifting up my hand and placing it on the table between us, examining it for a moment before gently setting it down, nodding a bit to himself. He hadn't expected that answer. I was pretty sure he hadn't expected any answer. And now he seemed unsure of what to do.

We sat silently for what seemed like hours but was probably only a few seconds, and I tried desperately to ignore the feeling of loss coursing through my body at the lack of contact. When he finally spoke again, it was so quietly that I had to lean forward to hear him.

"It was _you_. I was distracted by _you_. I was trying not to think about _you_."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry or dance or curl into a small ball under the table. My heart rejoiced, ecstatic that he had been thinking about me at all. My brain raced to keep up, trying to determine whether or not I should be offended by the fact that he had not _wanted_ to be thinking about me to the point that he ditched school.

"Am I so horrible to think about?" I asked, trying to sound like I was teasing and failing miserably as I noted to the hurt that had managed to creep into my voice. This whole putting-yourself-out-there thing really sucks.

"I'm not used to thinking about people," he said carefully, staring intently at my hand where it rested still on the table. "I'm not… I'm not sure that I like it."

"Oh."

I felt tears well up behind my eyes. I felt my breath hitch in my throat. I felt rejection wash over me.

And then I felt an ice cold hand on top of my own and, god help me, the relief that washed over me at his touch, the comfort and thrill I got from his hand on mine could have fixed all the world's problems.

"I didn't mean it like that, Bella. Really, I just… I don't know how to explain it. People are generally very easy for me to read, easy for me to understand. I've never had to give anyone much thought, because I already know who they are, what they want. You," he said, gently tracing circles on the back of my hand with his fingertips, "you're different. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do with _you_."

"You're good at reading people, huh?" I asked, trying to keep things normal, trying not to leap across the table into his lap and beg him to trace circles on other parts of my body.

"You have no idea," he said, chuckling darkly.

"Well, if you ever want to know something," I said, slowly flipping my hand so that he could explore my palm now, "just ask."

"I will, thank you."

"You're very welcome."

We sat for a moment, silence stretching between us once more. It occurred to me that we were here, in this room, at this time, for a reason, but I'd be damned if I let something like responsibility come between me and those beautiful fingers as they continued to idly play with my hand. It occurred to me that the me who sat here now was very different from the me who woke up and got dressed this morning. I occurred to me that this one conversation had changed everything.

"How's your wrist?" he asked suddenly, shifting his attention from the hand in front of him to the hand I had curled around my torso protectively.

"It's fine," I replied, shrugging. "No big deal."

"Thank you for seeing my father. I wasn't sure you'd go."

"Well, you didn't leave me much of a choice. Next time, don't subvert my friends, please."

"Don't fall again and I won't have to."

"I'll get right on that."

And suddenly his face was inches from mine, his deliciously sweet scent washing over me, his scorching eyes filling my vision.

"See that you do," he said seriously before backing away again, seeming to notice his proximity. He took his hand away from mine in the course of his retreat, lacing his fingers together in front of him as he sat back on the stool, a look of deep concentration taking over his features.

I must have reacted in some way because suddenly his eyes were on me again. All I could think about was that hand, those amazing fingers. All I could think about was getting them back.

"You have work to do," he said suddenly, jumping up from the table and crossing quickly back to our regular spot in the room. "I'm keeping you from it."

"You… I… really… I don't… mind…" I stammered. Losing his hand was one thing, but losing his presence entirely… I didn't think I could survive that.

But he didn't say anything. He didn't say anything and he settled back into his assigned seat, pulling the packet of "punishment" in front of him and leaning over it, seeming to concentrate.

"Edward," I called quietly. If he heard me, he pretended not to.

"Edward," I tried again, quieter still, my voice cracking.

But he was gone. He had pulled away from me. The intimacy, the honesty that had existed between us moments ago was lost. Shaking my head, willing myself to let it go, assuring myself that we would talk like this again, that a lot had been accomplished today and I should simply be grateful for the progress between us, I bent once again over my own packet, throwing myself into its completion with everything I had.

I thought I felt his eyes on me, but I didn't dare to look.

Fifteen minutes later, my work was finished and I was free. Gathering my things, willing myself not to look back at him, I strode up to Mr. Banner's empty desk and dropped my assignment on it with a thud, turning on my heel and moving quickly to the door, making it halfway into the hallway before pausing and taking a step backwards.

"Edward," I called, and this time he looked up at me. "I hope to see you tomorrow."

Our eyes locked and his lips twisted into the most gorgeous crooked smile I'd ever laid eyes on, making my heart stutter and then take off into a full gallop.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Bella," he said, his velvet voice doing all kinds of warm, tingly things to my body.

We looked at each other appraisingly for a moment longer before I nodded and continued out the door, moving quickly down the hall and out of the building, fumbling in my backpack for the car keys that had been hiding in the front pocket since yesterday afternoon when they'd gone unused, and practically skipping to my truck in excitement. The parking lot was practically empty, and I leaned against the driver's side door for a moment, melting into the metal and leaning my head back with a sigh.

Tomorrow.

I would see him again tomorrow.

Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.

**A/N: Started at work, finished at home. A nice balance, I think. Let me know what you think… this has gone in a very surprising direction, and I'm not sure if I'm digging it or not. **

**And, please, if you haven't read Darkness and Light yet, I'd encourage you to give it a shot. I'm not updating it at the moment, but that doesn't mean I won't be.**

**Anyway… REVIEW. Love ya. : )**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Soooo… to those of you who frantically PMed me asking if I had quit the story or something… I haven't. Here's your update. I just needed a break… I still feel like I need one, but most of my favorites haven't been updated in the past week, and I know how much that's pissing ME off, so I thought I'd try to set a good example. I apologize in advance if this chapter sucks. It shouldn't, but it might.**

**Also, I'm trying to work out how to submit this to Twilighted. I thought I had uploaded it, but it doesn't seem I have. I know they need to select it first for it to appear… whatevs… if someone has experience with posting there, please PM me. I'm confuzzled.**

**I don't own this.**

**Chapter Twelve**

"Isabella Swan," Charlie called darkly the moment he walked through the front door, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

I stifled a laugh and walked out of the kitchen to greet him, my hands jammed into the pockets of my jeans. Charlie had never been one for conversation, but discipline he understood perfectly.

"What's up, dad?" I asked quietly, knowing that the more contrite I seemed, the easier he'd be on me. "How was your day?"

"Well, Bells, it's the damndest thing. I stopped by the grocery store on the way home to pick up that stuff on the list you gave me, and who did I run into but Mrs. Cope?"

He paused to look down at me, shedding his jacket and unbuckling his holster before continuing. I waited.

"Do you know who Mrs. Cope is, Bella? She works at Forks High. Terribly nice woman. Her husband died a while back in a hunting accident, and she's been on her own ever since. Anyway, she and I were talking as we were waiting in line to check out, and she happened to mention to me that you had gotten into some trouble at school today. Is there anything you'd like to tell me now, Bella?"

I thought for a moment. My father is not the chatty type, so clearly Mrs. Cope had sought out conversation with _him_. I doubted he had talked much at all, actually. Still, that wasn't the point.

"I'm sorry, dad," I said, shuffling my feet uncomfortably. "I was frustrated with the pace of the class, so I tried to read to calm myself down. Mr. Banner noticed and was upset with me. It won't happen again. I promise."

We looked at each other for a moment, uncertain what to do next. We had never spent much time together, and, while Police Chief Swan knew how to dole out the punishments, dad seemed at a loss.

"Look, Bells, I know you're used to more advanced stuff, but you need to remember that no matter how boring you find the subject matter, no matter how easy everything seems, you need to treat your teachers with the respect they deserve. Now, I know you won't do it again, and I think spending extra time after school was punishment enough, so I'll let it slide just this once. There had better not be a next time, though, Bella. I mean it."

He reached out and squeezed my shoulder, which was about as affectionate as it got for him.

"There won't be a next time, dad. Scout's honor. Now," I looked up at him smiling, "did I hear something about groceries?"

The rest of the night was remarkably uneventful. Charlie had diligently purchased everything on the list I had compiled for him, and I eagerly went about the task of making us a decent meal. Conversation at the table was minimal, but the silences were comfortable, and neither of us were really talkers anyway. That was one thing I loved about living here. While Renee had constantly sought after clichéd mother/daughter bonding moments, Charlie didn't need any validation. We could just exist together. It was alright.

I called Angela as soon as dinner was over, dialing her number as I dropped down onto the middle of my bed, drawing my legs up to my chin.

She answered on the second ring.

"Well, Miss Bella, I didn't see any bodies being pulled out of Forks High on the news tonight," she said in lieu of a greeting.

"Well, Miss Angie, it's nice to talk to you, too."

She laughed quietly into the phone, and I could hear people moving around in the background.

"Am I interrupting anything? I can call back later."

"Don't be daft," she said dismissively. "I'm just watching TV with my parents. Hang on. Let me go into my room."

There was more ambient sound, and I heard her excuse herself to her family.

"There," she said, punctuating her statement with the quiet sound of her door closing on the other end of the line. "Now then. Now that we're all alone… tell me what happened!"

I scooted back in my bed, resting my back against the wall next to the window and playing idly with the yellowing white curtains that hung about it as I recounted the details of what had conspired between me and Edward in homeroom. In typical Angela fashion, she listened quietly and attentively, never once interrupting me to offer an opinion, and laughing with me at all the right times.

"So, you tripped again _and_ managed to punch yourself in the face?" she asked with a laugh when I had finished my story. "Honestly, Bella, you should seriously consider wearing a helmet."

"That's what Edward said, too," I practically yelled into the phone, fighting against the laughter that was trying to force its was out of my mouth. No. This was _not _funny.

Alright. It's kind of funny.

"But it seems like you ended on a high note," she said thoughtfully once she had calmed down enough to talk again. "That's a good thing."

"It is," I agreed. "And, frankly, knowing me, it could have gone a lot worse."

"Damn straight," Angela said before bursting into a second wave of laughter. This time I joined her.

"Oh, and Charlie found out about the detention," I offered.

"Uh-oh. How did he take it?"

"He seemed mostly uncomfortable. He was pissed, but he got over it pretty quickly. No harm done."

"Good."

"Indeed."

"So…"

"Yes?"

"So what're you going to do, Isabella Swan?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Angela Webber. Any ideas?" I asked hopefully.

There was a brief silence before she responded.

"None."

"Helpful."

"Anytime."

We both sat quietly for a moment. I moved down to the end of my bed and stared blankly out of my window, watching unfocusedly as rain splattered against the glass, as the trees of the woods swayed in the wind. This place was cold and wet and miserable, but it was sort of peaceful as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a sudden movement on the edge of the tree line, but I didn't pay much attention.

"Alright, first thing's first," Angela said suddenly with confidence, "You need to decide what you want from him. Do you want friendship or something more?"

Shit. Well, he's too hot for me. No way in _hell_ he'd ever want to date me. I'd settle for friends. I'd _have_ to settle for friends.

"Friends," I said firmly.

"Well, then," she stuttered, the surprise palpable in her voice, "just treat him like a friend. Don't give him any other options. Talk to him when you feel like it. Don't talk to him when you don't. Easy."

"Easy," I repeated, nodding to myself and fixing my gaze on the trees closest to the house. I had _definitely_ seen something move this time.

"Yep," she said, popping the 'p' and sighing. "Isabella, do you realize that you are the only person, other than his family of course, that Edward Cullen has spoken more than 10 words to since moving here?"

"I don't see why that should matter," I replied quietly, placing my fingers on the cold glass of the window and tracing raindrops as they landed there.

"Look, Bella, it's your life. But I know you like him. And you know you like him. And you're the first person he's _ever_ shown interest in. So why not just go for it?"

"Because I don't do things like that. Because he's too attractive for me. Because I don't _want_ to go for it. I find him interesting. I like the way he talks. I'd like to get to know him better as a _friend_. Let's leave it at that, alright?"

"Alright," she agreed with another sigh. "Look, Bella, I need to get started on my homework or my dad will kill me. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?"

"OK, Angie. See you tomorrow."

I moved the phone away from my ear but brought it back quickly.

"Angie?" I said loudly, hoping she hadn't hung up yet.

"Yeah?"

"Look… I just wanted to say… I appreciate this. I'm not very good at it, I don't have a lot of experience with friends and talking about this sort of stuff… thanks for being so awesome. Really. I mean it. And if _you_ ever want to talk about anything, I mean… I know I've monopolized the conversation since we met… well, I'm here. If you want to talk. OK?"

"OK, Bella. Thanks."

"Thank _you_."

The line clicked, and I closed my cell, lying back on my bed and staring at the ceiling.

Two days.

Two days and so much had happened. So much had changed.

Two days.

I wondered what tomorrow would bring.

**A/N: So, it's short. My apologies. I wrote it at work, and, given the amount of people wandering in and out of my cubicle, it's a wonder I got the word count as high as it is.**

**Please, please review. I would be over the moon if I could break 100 reviews before the next chapter's up. I've been nostalgic about Darkness and Light lately, too, so you may get an update for that one in the near future. Stay tuned.**

**REVIEW!!!!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I have a Beta! *happy dance* Thanks to ****coconutjelly596**** for answering my neurotic e-mails in the middle of the night!**

**I don't own this. **

**Chapter Thirteen**

Wednesday morning arrived without the aid of my alarm clock, and it took me a few moments to realize that the blame was to be laid on the brilliant rays of light that were streaming through my window, shattering as they met my partially opened blinds. The sun was out. It had stopped raining.

I was elated.

The mood held through my morning routine, and I reflected my excitement in my outfit, opting for a strappy lavender tank top under my usual layers, praying that it would get warm enough for me to shed my winter skin at some point during the day.

Skipping down the stairs, and only stumbling once, I threw Charlie a brilliant smile before grabbing a piece of toast and heading out the door, practically dancing to my truck, drinking in the sunlight. It's amazing how quickly you can grow to miss something, and even more amazing how you can never fully appreciate something until it's gone. I had taken the sun for granted in Phoenix. Here, in Forks, it felt like a gift.

I hummed cheerfully as I drove to school, the weight of the night before dissipating with every breath I took, every beat of my heart. Today just felt _right_. I couldn't wait to get to Forks High. I couldn't wait to see Angela, to laugh and be sarcastic and act my age. I couldn't wait to see Edward, to feel those butterflies that swarmed in my stomach come to life at the sight of him before me, at the sound of his voice.

Edward.

Yes, today was going to be a good day.

I pulled into the student lot and parked in my now-usual space towards the back, stepping lightly out of the cab and closing the door with an enthusiastic "thud," leaning back against the cool, worn metal and tipping my face towards the sky. It was a cold day, but still the sun shone warm and bright, defying a thin blanket of grey clouds in the distance to ruin its good time. Eager to feel less bulky for once, I dropped my backpack on the asphalt and made quick work of my heavy coat and the black hoodie underneath. I would probably freeze my ass off, but who knew when I would get a chance like this again?

"Hey, Swan, are you crazy?" asked an incredulous Angela as she approached me from a few cars down, having parked in the midst of my sun worship.

"No crazier than usual," I murmured contentedly, still angling my face towards the warmth above.

"You're going to freeze," she said, fingering the thin white cardigan and the lavender tank top that served as the last of my layers.

"There are worse ways to go," I replied dreamily.

"Seriously, Miss Bella, you need to put something else on. It's 30 degrees."

"Is it?"

"_Bella_."

"But the sun's out, Angie. The _sun_," I pouted, slumping back against my truck and sticking out my lower lip. "I may never get another day like today. I just want to enjoy it."

"Enjoy it with a jacket on."

I glared at her but she held her ground and, after a rather violent shiver made its way up my spine, was forced to concede that she had a point.

"Fine. But I won't like it," I grumbled, yanking warmer layers back on and instantly feeling better.

"Whatever," she laughed, turning towards the school once I was more sensibly clothed. "Are you coming, Miss Whiney?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

In spite of the extra layers, my mood held along with the weather, and I walked into the cafeteria with a spring in my step. This was the time I had been waiting for all day. This was the time I would get to see Edward.

I rushed through the lunch line, grabbing an apple and a tea, too distracted to eat anything substantial, and made my way towards Jessica Stanley's table, settling down next to Angela and ignoring the conversation around me.

My eyes were fixed on his usual table.

But he wasn't there.

None of them were.

I waited.

They didn't show.

I glanced at the clock. Lunch had only started ten minutes ago. Maybe he was held up.

Fifteen minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Thirty minutes.

No sign of him or his family.

No Cullens.

My heart sank lower and lower, along with my spirits.

"He wasn't in my English class today, Bella," Angela said quietly to me when only a few minutes of the period remained, following my gaze to his empty table.

"He… he said he'd see me today," I said dejectedly, hating the way my voice shook, hating how much I was hurt by his absence. "Where _is_ he?"

Hating how much I missed him.

"Who?" Jessica asked, catching my tone and turning towards me.

"Edward Cullen," I responded without thinking, regretting the reflex instantly when her face lit up.

"Oh yeah," Jess said, smirking, "I heard you two got stuck in detention yesterday after school. Did some talking, did you?"

The entire table went quiet, along with every other table within earshot.

"I… uh… we… we talked a little. Mr. Banner assigned us some work, though, so we were pretty… busy…"

"Yes, well obviously you didn't talk _that_ much, or he would've told you that his family goes hiking when it's nice out."

Jessica's face was nothing less than triumphant, and I had to wonder how she had grown to dislike me so quickly. She seemed to revel in my disappointment, and was clearly enjoying the fact that she knew things about Edward that I didn't.

"Really?" I asked, trying to seem disinterested, trying to bring the situation back within the realm of my control.

"Why yes, Isabella. Dr. Cullen takes the day off from work and everything. They're quite outdoorsy. It's some sort of family bonding thing. _Everyone_ knows about it." She gave me a significant look before continuing. "Funny. It seemed like you two were becoming quite chummy. I would have thought he'd have mentioned it."

"Yes, well… as I said before, we were busy. And, in case you need reminding, Jessica, I've only been here three days." I was going from hurt to uncomfortable to annoyed very quickly, and the more Jessica spoke, the more danger I was in of saying something that, while fun in the present, I would definitely regret in the future.

"Yes," she said with a significant look, "it's funny. It feels like you've been here forever. Now, Mike, tell me about that movie again?"

She turned her attention to the boy sitting next to her and it was over. For now.

"She's just jealous, Bella. You have to know that," Angela whispered to me, placing a hand reassuringly on my shoulder before gathering up the remnants of her lunch on her tray. "Now, come on. The bell's about to ring. Let's get to class."

"Is it true what she said?" I asked Angela as we approached the Science building a few minutes later. "They go hiking on nice days?"

"That's the pattern," Angela said. "It's really only noticeable because the sun doesn't shine here that often. "

"That's odd," I commented to myself, turning over something Edward had said to me yesterday.

"What is?"

"Well, it's just that Edward told me—"

"Angela!" called a male voice when we entered the classroom, and we both turned in surprise.

"Ben," she replied with a shaky smile, her eyes lighting up. "What's up?"

"I'm working on this article for the school paper and I was wondering if—"

"Later," I mouthed to Angela before walking back to my table, listening amusedly as Angela and the boy chatted about some sort of series he had proposed about the Quileute high school. From the nervous way they were laughing and the eager way they were appraising each other, it wasn't difficult to see that they were both smitten… and too embarrassed to do anything about it. Maybe there was something Angela could use my help with after all…

The class dragged, the empty space next to me seeming to mock me with every passing moment.

Where _was_ he?

I kept my eyes trained on the door, waiting for his casual entrance, his flippant reply to Mr. Banner. I wanted a repeat of yesterday. I wanted him. He _promised_.

Well, did he promise? No… not really. He hadn't promised. He had just implied. But, still… he got my hopes up…

But no Edward. He just didn't appear. I wanted to cry.

So much for my perfect day.

The bell rang and I trudged off to gym class, barely registering Mike Newton's eager offer to walk me there and only half-heartedly returning Angela's wave as I followed him out of the building.

Today sucked.

I hate the sun.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

"Seriously, Bella, you look like someone just told you the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist. You need to cheer up. What about the sun?"

"Fuck the sun," I muttered, following Angela into the parking lot after the school day had mercifully ended

"No. I'm saving myself for Saturn."

I looked up at her, taking in her wry smile, and immediately burst out laughing.

"Thank god," she sighed, watching me double over. "I was beginning to think I'd have to put you on a suicide watch."

"I know, I know," I gasped, catching my breath. "It's just… I was looking forward to…"

"I know."

"Yeah."

"Hey, what were you going to tell me in Biology before? Something about Edward telling you something?"

"What? Oh," I said as I realized what she was talking about. "Edward had told me that he preferred to hike in the rain yesterday. He'd told me that was why he missed class. I found it odd that the family makes a point of going hiking when it's sunny out… it goes against what he told me yesterday."

"Huh," Angela nodded. "Yeah, that's pretty strange. Who hikes in the rain?"

"Edward Cullen," I replied with a heavy sigh.

"Well," she declared after a pause, "there's a freak in every family"

"I'm an only child."

"Let your freak flag fly, kid."

"Wait… aren't _you_ an only child?"

"Sorry, Bella. I have a brother at Washington State."

"Does he hike in the rain?"

"No. He collects stamps, though."

"Goodbye, Angela. I'll call you later."

"See you, Bella," she called, opening her car door and dropping into the driver's seat.

I took my time on the way to my truck, a mere handful of spaces down from where she'd parked, trying to collect my thoughts before I was faced with the claustrophobia of my tiny house and my tiny life. Everything seemed much bigger out here, much more expansive. My school in Phoenix had been surrounded by suburban sprawl, an oasis of glass and concrete surrounded by an ocean of mini-malls and middle income housing. Forks High seemed much purer, much less oppressed. While the school itself was situated on the main drag, it was cornered by mountains and trees, much like my house, and that afforded it a much more organic feel. I had hated it a few days ago, but I was growing to appreciate it with each passing minute.

Reaching my baby, I thought for a moment before dropping the tailgate and climbing into the bed of the truck, stripping off my coat and balling it up behind me to use as a pillow before laying back against the rusted metal and staring up at the sky. From here, my problems weren't so oppressive. In relation to the vast stretch of mountains and trees and sky around me, Edward Cullen was nothing. Just a drop in the bucket. Meaningless, really.

I don't know how long I was laying there, but after a while my back grew sore and I sat up, stretching uncomfortably and looking around. The parking lot was, for all intents and purposes, empty, except for a handful of younger boys skateboarding at the other end. I stepped carefully from the back of the truck and approached the woods that began a few yards back from the parking lot, feeling the need to take a walk after all that time lying down.

I have never been a hiking kind of girl. Swimming I can handle. Days at the park I can handle. Hiking… well, hiking generally means falling. The sun was still high enough in the sky for me to safely navigate any errant roots or branches, and Charlie was working later than usual tonight so I didn't need to worry about dinner quite yet… it was time to see what all this fuss was about. Time to see what was keeping Edward away from me, what was so special about a bunch of stupid rocks and plants and trees.

I was jealous of a forest.

How ridiculous can you get?

I was halfway between the parking lot and the tree line when a rather loud and annoying noise, something akin to a rather large lawnmower engine, made me turn. The skateboarders in the parking lot were now crowded around a red… dirt bike? Motorcycle? It had two rather fat wheels and lots of ridiculous white stripes running down the sides, it's front fender splashed with what looked like mud. One of the boys was standing proudly astride it, clearly enjoying the fawning attention being paid by his peers over his possession. There was a bit of cheering from his small crowd of fans, and then the boy mounted the bike, revving the engine absurdly and taking off entirely too fast across the empty lot, racing an invisible opponent.

He began making wide circles, accelerating every few loops to the cheers of the other boys and leaning more heavily into every new arc. He was trying to impress them. It was ridiculous.

I turned away from them, tired of the distraction, hoping for some quiet, and began my trek towards the woods again.

The engine revved louder, closer.

I kept walking.

The engine faded, then came closer still.

I kept walking.

The engine became louder, drowning out my thoughts with its obnoxious buzzing sounds, and, frustrated, I turned around and began walking back to my truck, intent on telling the boys off before heading home and perhaps giving the woods by my house a chance.

I had only just stepped off of the curb into the parking lot when I heard it…

The squealing of breaks…

The dull, horrible sound of rubber spinning wildly against the pavement…

I looked up.

The boy was no longer on the bike…

The bike had spun out of control, hurtling erratically across the parking lot…

I watched as the blur of red and black and white skidded aimlessly, wondering when it would stop, if the boy was alright…

And then I froze…

The bike was coming right at me…

The bike would hit me…

And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

I closed my eyes and waited for it to be over.

Little did I know, it had only just begun…

**A/N: Sooo…? I'm not going to lie… I was offended by the lack of response to the last chapter. I know it was more of a character study than anything else, but come on, kids… don't you like me anymore? **

**PLEASE review. My ego took a major hit on the last chapter. As well as the response to DandL. I LIVE on feedback. I know how many of you have favorite or alerted this story, and it has gotten 6000 hits this month. It doesn't feel real unless I get reviews. I'm needy. What can I say.**

**Don't make me hold the next chapter hostage. Click the damn button and say something!!!**

**Love you. : )**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: So, I sent this to my Beta, Miss Hannah, to review, and she hasn't gotten back to me. We all know how famous I am for my patience, so I'm posting an un-edited chapter. As she has wielded quite an influence over me as of late, and has helped me clarify some points within my storyline, I'm a bit insecure about posting without the aid of her eye, but once she reviews and gets back to me, I may pull this and post a better written copy.**

**This is brief, but since it took me nearly two weeks to refine, I'm sure you'll forgive me. Or hate me. Either way, you know me by now, and I hope you'll review.**

**I don't generally do this, but I feel I must. I shall pimp the following stories to you, as they've caught my eye recently. First, there's **_**Unraveled Knot**_** by twistedcoincidence. I reviewed her and then she reviewed me, which was awesome, btw, and, anyway, it's an amazing AU AH story that has me hooked, and if you love AH Twilight, you'll drool over this. It's brilliant. Flawless. Go read it, and then thank me. Cause my ego matters, too, dammit.**

**Now, I'm going to recommend a Harry Potter fic, and I don't know if any of you are into those, but they've been my obsession lately. I'm particularly fond of Hermione/Snape pairings (ducks behind a chair), and, yes, I am fully aware of the age difference, but Edward's more than 80 years Bella's senior so what's 20 years between professor and student? Anyway, it's called **_**When A Lioness Fights **_**by kayly silverstorm and it is the single greatest fanfic epic I have ever read. I was up until 6:30 this morning reading it, having started around noon yesterday, and it was worth every sleepless second. Seriously. I cannot recommend this enough. It is favorited in my profile. Go read it. It's spectacular.**

**In any event, this concludes the A/N that are nearly as long as this chapter. I hope this reads alright. It's my seventh version. And I'm not exaggerating. As always, these characters don't belong to me, but the awesome shit that comes out of their mouths totally does.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

It's surprising how panic seems to slow everything down. In those moments I had before the bike inevitably slammed into me, I felt time stand still. I became absurdly aware of everything around me. The rays of the sun, still shining brightly overhead, the panicked shouts of the boys who had been skateboarding earlier, bending over their friend where he lay on the ground after the bike threw him, the rustle of the light breeze through the trees behind me, the crunching sound of the asphalt as the motorcycle skidded across it… everything became oddly defined. Magnified.

Maybe time slows down to keep you calm, to keep things in perspective. After all, the world around me is vast and complex and not dependent upon my existence. My death, in the grand scheme of things, would be more than a little inconsequential. It would be painful, I'm sure, and my heart broke at the thought of Renee and Charlie mourning over their only daughter, but time would pass and people would heal and the universe would continue forward without so much as a pause.

I stood in the parking lot, watching that red missile of metal and rubber rocket towards me, and I felt… resigned.

I guess, moments before proving your own mortality, everyone becomes a philosopher.

But then a movement out of the corner of my eye forced my mind to change gears, and I tore my focus from the bike in front of me to the source of the distraction.

Whatever it was, it was moving quickly. It was moving away from the trees and towards the parking lot, a blur of black and white and glinting copper. I squinted at it, trying to discern what it was, trying to make sense of it, but before too much thought could be given to it, it was standing directly in front of me. It was blocking the bike from my view. It was tall and impeccably dressed with a well-muscled back and a shock of bronze hair. It was Edward Cullen.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Just as time moves slowly in moments of panic, time apparently speeds up in moments of confusion. The next few seconds went by in a flash of movement, and, when I was able to focus again, to consider what was playing out before me, the only thing that registered was that the motorcycle, once hurtling towards me, was now skidding off in the opposite direction, spinning wildly towards the opposite end of the parking lot before losing momentum and stopping once it hit the curb, wheels spinning.

What.

The.

Fuck.

And then Edward turned and faced me, regarding me with a mixture of worry and pain and anger and confusion and something else entirely. His honeyed eyes swept over me as though taking a mental inventory, ensuring my limbs were still intact and in place, and his lips pulled themselves into a hardened line, as though he was trying to restrain himself from speaking.

I stared at him. My body was frozen, my brain unable to afford me a coherent thought or course of action. All I could do was look. What had just happened? What was he doing here? Why am I not dead right now? Why is _he_ not dead right now? What the fuck?

And something about him wasn't right. Something about him wasn't the way it normally was. He looked different. He looked off. Something about his face. His face wasn't quite right. I took my own mental inventory, trying to work it out, pushing through the fog of confusion, attempting to jolt myself back into my body. His eyes were, well, his eyes. They were hardened and calculating at present, but still just as beautiful, just as deep, though maybe a softer gold than I had seen before. His lips were the same dusty red, drawn taught into an unreadable expression. His cheeks were the same, as was his jaw, his chin, his nose. Marble white, perfect skin drawn creamily over his rugged bone structure. But there was something. Something about his face.

His face.

Marble white, perfect skin.

That was it.

Marble white, perfect skin that looked different somehow. It looked different. It looked…

What.

The.

Fuck.

I inhaled sharply, trying to supply my shock-addled brain with the oxygen it needed to work through this. This wasn't possible. This transcended "not possible." This was the kind of shit that would get me locked up in the psych ward at Forks General. This was…

"Edward," I breathed. His eyes locked on mine and his body tensed. It was as though he knew what was coming. It was as though he was waiting for it. "Edward, your skin."

He froze, regarding me with caution. He looked as though he was torn between merely reacting and actually planning his next move. And, all the while, his skin…

It was the most spectacular thing I'd ever seen. It was luminescent. It was scintillating. It was… astonishing. Each pore appeared to glint in the sunlight, dancing and sparkling like a million diamonds were embedded just beneath the surface of his flesh. He glowed with light. It radiated off of each bit of his exposed skin. It disappeared into the crew neck of his sweater, only to reappear on the back of his hands and across his fingers where they emerged from his long sleeves. I was baffled by the sight before me, entranced by the ethereal beauty of this boy who was clearly so much more. I was staring at his hands, transfixed at the way the light played off of his tightly clenched digits, when he spoke to me.

"Goodbye, Bella," he whispered, his voice husky and trembling. I looked up at him, searching his eyes with mine, trying to translate what I found in them and finding no answers. He reached out to me, running one cold, unyielding, glittering finger across my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw, before dropping his hand, stepping back, and disappearing into the tree line with the same astonishing speed he'd demonstrated upon his arrival.

I stared after him, shaking with awe and confusion and excitement and more than a little bit of fear, running my fingers over the spots on my face where he'd touched me. My jaw tingled with the electric current that his contact had left behind.

_Goodbye, Bella._

Shouting from across the parking lot pushed its way into my mind, and I took this to mean that the boys had finally noticed my presence. The voices were getting closer. They must be walking towards me. Maybe even running. But, still, I didn't move. I stood transfixed, staring at the spot where Edward had disappeared into the woods. Every nerve in my body was alight, every cell in my brain working in overdrive, trying to make sense of what had just happened, trying to reconcile the boy I'd met only days earlier with the being that had stood before me moments ago.

_Goodbye, Bella_.

Panic washed over me as his parting words replayed in my mind.

_Goodbye, Bella_.

Edward Cullen had saved my life, appearing out of nowhere to shield me from an unexpected danger.

Edward Cullen was not like other people.

Edward Cullen had just said goodbye.

And I felt my heart shatter as the reality of that set in. Because the bottom line was that Edward Cullen had just said goodbye for good.

**A/N: Hope you liked. Let me know if you did. Or didn't. Or say horribly dirty things. I don't really care. Just click on that button on the bottom of your screen and tell me something. Please.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: So, I'm in an updating kind of mood, I guess… though I totally shouldn't be… since my DandL update only prompted 3 reviews. 3. That story's had over 1700 hits today, and I got 3 reviews out of it. I know it sucks, but come ON people! **

**I mentioned on my DandL update that I graduated last week. For those of you who don't read that fic, I graduated last week. Thanks to everyone who PMed me with their congratulations. It was super sweet and adorable and made me more than a little warm and fuzzy. Of course, it's just on to the next college, but, you know, such is life. **

**In any event, this isn't DandL, this is ETS. If you have no clue what I'm talking about, go read my profile, but not until you read this chapter and REVIEW IT! Don't make me threaten you guys again. I'll so totally go there. You want an update? Show me some love. Or hate. Or whatever.**

**Props to Hannah for editing this and getting it back to me on July 4… I was laid up with a sprained ankle all day, but I'm sure she had better things to do than comment on my prose, so I appreciate her superhero-esque dedication to my more neurotic tendencies.**

**Actually, maybe I could bribe you? I've been talking to super-Beta Hannah about writing an EPOV of this story… maybe if you were nice to me I'd get started on it? Hmmm… food for thought. Up to you, though.**

**On with the show… the show whose characters I do not own…**

**Chapter Fifteen**

"Hey. _Hey_," insisted a decidedly male voice. I felt a hand wrap around my forearm and shake me gently, trying to bring me back to earth. "Are you alright?"

There was murmuring, rapid speech as the boys in front of me tried to figure out what was going on, why I wasn't responding.

"I said 'are you alright?'"

"She doesn't seem to hear you, Jake, try louder."

"_Are you alright?_" the hand gripped me tighter now, and shook me more roughly.

"W-what?" I asked, bewildered as my brain kicked into gear again. I blinked once, twice, regarding the figure in front of me, trying to make sense of what was happening.

_Goodbye, Bella._

I shuddered.

The body before me released a sigh, seeming to be relieved that I'd finally responded, and I watched blurrily as it crouched down, meeting my eyes with an expression of concern.

"You didn't get hurt, did you?" the boy asked, his dark eyes boring into my own.

"No. No, I'm fine," I replied quietly, blinking again, trying to think. Had they seen anything? Had they seen Edward?

"Thank god," the boy sighed, smiling at me, his relief evident.

"Yeah," I said, nodding, growing more aware of my surroundings with every breath I took. There were three boys standing in front of me. The one who had addressed me was lean and well-built, with skin the color of rich copper and straight black hair down to his shoulders. His friends were similarly built, though one was rather on the short side, with matching complexions and anxious faces. They flanked the boy in front of me, forming a triangle. "Don't worry. It didn't come anywhere near me." I watched their faces, waiting for them to react, to contradict me, but they didn't. And that meant that they hadn't seen Edward. And, for some reason, I was able to breathe easier at the realization.

"Good," nodded the boy, giving me another smile before straightening out of his crouch. Standing, he was a good head taller than me.

"Hey, how's your friend? Did he get hurt?" I asked with sudden concern, looking over his shoulder to where the motorcycle had dumped its rider moments ago. But there was nobody there.

"Nah, I'm fine," he said, flashing me a boyish smile.

"Yeah, Jake's made of rubber," quipped one of the boys behind him, clapping him roughly on the shoulder.

"Oh. Alright. You're sure you don't need to go to the hospital or anything? That looked like a nasty fall."

"I'm fine," he repeated, holding up a battered leather jacket with his right hand. I hadn't noticed that before. "The jacket broke my fall."

"Oh."

We stared at each other, uncertain about what should happen next. I had had just witnessed what should have been a gruesome motorcycle accident, but the boy did, indeed, appear to be alright. It seemed unlikely that he could fall like that and walk away completely unscathed, but who was I to question him? I, by all rights, should be nothing but a puddle of gore in the middle of the parking lot right now.

"Well," I said, offering Jake and his friends a feeble smile before pivoting slightly towards my truck, "I should get home. Thanks for checking on me."

"No problem," Jake said easily, drawing his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Hey, is that your truck?" he called after me once I had reached the driver's side door.

"Yeah," I said, wrenching the door open and climbing ungracefully into the seat.

"So you're Isabella?" he asked knowingly, smiling again.

"Yeah," I replied with caution, uncomfortable with the fact that this stranger knew who I was.

"Jacob Black," he announced, walking towards me swiftly with his hand in front of him. "I'm Billy's son. I restored your truck for you."

"Oh," I breathed, returning his smile and shaking his hand awkwardly before dropping it again. "Isabella Swan. Nice to meet you."

"You, too." He regarded me with interest, his eyes dancing, but he didn't say anything else, and I was getting more uncomfortable by the second.

"Anyway, I really do have to get home."

"Of course. See you around, Isabella."

"You too, Jacob," I called, closing the heavy door with a thud and turning the key in the ignition, wincing at the growl of the engine.

I sat there for a moment, perched on the cracked vinyl of my seat, listening to the droning scream of my engine, feeling the vibrations of my idling vehicle work their way into my bones, before clutching hard and throwing the truck into reverse, driving home as fast as the aging vehicle would allow me.

It wasn't until I parked in front of the house, ran up the lawn, burst through the door, threw myself up the steps, and collapsed into the safety of my bed that I allowed myself to think about what had happened. About what it meant. About _him_.

_Goodbye, Bella_.

The stress of the day's events overtook me, crashed over me in waves of panic and fear and confusion. I felt my body begin to shake, felt my mind begin to crumble. The feelings were overwhelming and relentless. There was nothing that I could do about them. There was nothing that I could do about the day. About the fact that I was alive when I shouldn't have been. About the fact that he had said goodbye without needing to. About the fact that my life, whether I recognized it or not, was rapidly spinning out of the realm of my control. It occurred to me that, perhaps, I had never had any control to begin with. That, perhaps, my own self-imposed isolation, my own neurotic defense mechanisms had brought me to this place, to this point. That, perhaps, by trying so desperately to protect myself, my heart, I had managed to ensure the opposite.

For the first time in my life, I realized just how vulnerable I was. And, curling into a ball in the center of my new bed, in my new room, in my new house, in this new world, I cried.

*****

Thursday and Friday were uneventful in their routine, with once notable exception. Edward Cullen was gone. In fact, _all_ of the Cullen children were gone. And nobody seemed to notice this but me.

I had expected rumors to fly, as Thursday and Friday had been overcast and rainy. I had expected people to be shocked by their conspicuous absence. And then it occurred to me that it was only conspicuous to me because I had been dreading it. Which forced me to think about _why_ I'd been dreading it. Which only served to piss me off. Which made Angela notice that there was something wrong. Which prompted us to be sitting in a diner on the outskirts of Forks Saturday afternoon as she staged a personality intervention over a plate of fabulously greasy French fries.

"Bella," Angela snapped, regarding me with disdain, "if you don't cheer the fuck up, I'm going to back over you with my car."

"My father's the police chief," I replied idly, waving off her threat. "You'd be better off staging an unfortunate accident or something."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said wryly, sipping from her soda and idly munching on a fry before persisting again. "Seriously, Isabella. Something is wrong. I'd like you to tell me what it is."

"It's _nothing_," I insisted, avoiding her eyes. "Really, I'm just not feeling that great. I'll be fine in a few days or something."

"Bullshit."

"Angela."

"Bullshit."

"Seriously, Angie—"

"Seriously, Bella, _talk to me_."

She leveled me with one long, serious look, and I was reminded of all the talks we'd had before. Of talking about my feelings for Edward, my constant embarrassment. I was hiding from her now, and it was more out of habit than anything else. She was right. I was wrong.

"I… I've had a bit of a rough week," I began, grabbing a handful of fries and dousing them in ketchup before bringing a couple to my mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Edward, well, I was in some trouble Wednesday after you left. Something happened, and I could have gotten hurt, but Edward helped me. He helped me and I didn't get hurt. And then… well, he left. He said 'goodbye' to me in this really serious voice and his eyes were all confusing and I was just so damn shocked from what had almost happened to me and I didn't know what to do and he left. I think he left forever. And he helped me. He can't leave forever. He can't leave because he helped me. It's not fair. I owe him so much, he… he… it's not fair."

I shoved a few more fries into my mouth before looking to Angela for a reaction. She didn't disappoint me.

"Alright," she said thoughtfully, helping herself to more of the food between us as she tried to work out what I'd just said. "Why don't you explain to me what happened. How were you almost hurt?"

"I can't tell you that," I breathed, my chest constricting. Every time I thought about that day, the sound of the bike squealing towards me filled my ears and my palms grew slick with sweat. I didn't like to think about it. And I certainly was not about to tell anyone, even Angela, what had truly happened… especially when I didn't quite know myself. Jacob and his friends had not known what a close call it had been, and I didn't plan on anyone else knowing either. I wasn't protecting Edward. I was protecting myself.

"Well, what can you tell me?"

"I had hung around after school to enjoy the sun, and I decided to take a walk through the woods for a while… and then it, you know… what happened happened, and suddenly Edward was there."

"Was he there before? Did he walk with you or something?"

"I hadn't seen him. I mean, I was sort of being absentminded. I wasn't really concentrating on anything. But I'm normally so _aware_ of him, you know?" I replied, blushing .

"Yeah, I know." She smiled warmly at me before gesturing for me to continue.

"It was like… he just appeared out of nowhere. And he _helped_ me. He saved me, really. And then, I mean… he said goodbye."

"Do you think that maybe he had been looking for you? Maybe that's why he showed up?"

I looked at her for a moment. No. No, I hadn't thought that. She read the meaning behind my stare and continued.

"Do you think that maybe he had been trying to find you so that he could say goodbye? And he was at the right place at the right time to be able to help you? And, having helped you, maybe he was embarrassed at the situation and just said what he'd showed up to say in the first place?"

We were both quiet for a moment. She was watching me, watching me think, prepared to comfort me if I needed comforting, make fun of me if I needed levity, help me along if I needed prodding. She was a good friend.

"That must have been it, Angie," I sighed suddenly, feeling a relieved smile creep across my face, ignoring the voice in the back of my mind that was screaming in protest. Screaming that she didn't know the whole story, she didn't know how he'd looked at me, she didn't know that I now knew one of his secrets…

"Of course it is," she replied smugly, sitting back in her seat. "I know you'll miss him, Bella, but there are plenty of other guys at school who would be more than happy to… distract… you for a while." She arched her eyebrow significantly before throwing me a smile to let me know she was only teasing. "Anyway, enough of this drama. Let's get some pie."

**A/N: Alright, bestest friends… you know the drill by now read and review, damn it. You KNOW you want that EPOV. It's just that my brain doesn't feel like working on it right now. Or this for that matter. Flattery will get you everywhere, and I go back and read reviews before writing each chapter, so please offer opinions. Review. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks to Hannah.**

**I don't own this.**

**Chapter Sixteen**

There are moments in life that are too upsetting or confusing to deal with. People have different ways of coping with these moments, I'm sure. I cope by hiding within myself, curling into a tight little ball in the back of my mind and keeping everyone else at bay. I hear people talk to me, and I can't understand what they're saying. I see things in front of me, things that should matter, and they don't move me in the slightest. During these moments, I go blank. It's as though everything around me drops away and all that I'm left with is myself. It's as though I'm standing on an empty stage in an empty theater. No lights, no sets, no props, no audience… just me.

This defense mechanism was developed when I was little. After Charlie and Renee's divorce, my life turned into a soap opera. They split when I was just a baby, so I can't speak with any certainty about what they had been like when they were together, but apart they were two appallingly simple caricatures of adults. Renee would march men through the house like some sort of parade, proving to herself how desirable she was, how interesting, how different. She had always attempted discretion, and she was never "loose" or whatever you want to call it, but she'd date a new man every month, and sing his praises every night as she put me to bed. Every new boyfriend was a clean slate, a chance for her to reinvent herself, something that I never understood at the time. When she'd first meet someone, she'd be all smiles and sunshine, and spend extra time with me, just to prove to me that she would always love me best. But then, when the relationship would wind down, she'd disappear. She'd turn in on herself, becoming frail and needy and clingy. It was too complicated for me. Too hard to understand. One day my mother would have not a care in the world, and the next she'd be crying in the corner of her bedroom like a scolded child. And so I'd shut down.

Charlie, wonderful though his efforts were, never knew what to do with me. We'd meet up for our annual vacations, and he'd offer a tense smile and an awkward hug, but the affection would end there. I tried talking to him about Renee a few times out of adolescent concern for her, but the hurt in his eyes at the mention of her name would always prompt me to stop. He had loved her, had put everything he had into their relationship, and when it didn't work out, I think he was lost. Even now, with his nightly vigil over ESPN and his weekend fishing trips, I don't think he knows how to function without her. Without someone. And he's too shy to try dating again. He just keeps to himself. It hurts to watch it sometimes.

I haven't fared any better, mind you. I'm in no place to judge my parents. Everyone had flaws. Everyone had problems. Everyone finds different ways to cope with the pain and disappointments of life. My reflexive rejection of the world around me is worse than Renee's desperation for uniqueness and Charlie's inability to let go combined. I weathered the same storm they did, and I came out on the other side with a deep distrust of the world around me. I pushed everyone away in Phoenix, wouldn't let them see me, see who I was, and, as a result, had no real friends to speak of. Moving here, it's a wonder that I let Angela get as close as she did as quickly as she did. I've never trusted anyone that implicitly to tell them what I was thinking… not even my parents. On occasion, not even myself.

It's amazing that the road to progress had to be paved in the destruction of everything I used to be, used to identify with. I used to wrap myself up in my mother's world, obsess over taking care of her, keeping her happy, keeping her safe. Now I barely think of her. I used to go into conversations with my peers with the lowest of expectations, waiting to be maligned, be it through attack or disregard. I'd reject people before the rejected me. I'd dislike people before they had the chance to dislike me. I'd keep the world at arm's length, daring anyone to come closer. And now… now…

Now I have a friend. I thought I had two. I thought Edward would be my friend. I even dared to hope that maybe Edward would be more than a friend, _could _be more than a friend. He's just so beautiful. But it's more than that. It's always been more than that, even though I never really sat down and thought about it before. But now, since he's gone, since he's left, there's no harm in thinking about him. No harm in assessing my true feelings. Because Edward's not a threat to me anymore. Edward can't hurt me. Edward can't look at me like he hates me, or treat me with indifference. He can't reel me in with that smile that makes life make sense and then reject me with his inscrutable behavior. He's gone and I'm still here, and if thinking about him helps me, then that's what I'll do. Because I can't keep fooling myself anymore. For the first time in my life, I feel worthwhile, I feel liked, loved even, and I'm not going to tarnish that by giving him power over me. And so in here, in my own mind, I can think about him and try to understand. And, maybe if I understand, I'll know what to look for next time. Maybe if I understand, I can be better prepared. Because keeping the world away hasn't worked so far, and so maybe the only thing I can do to protect myself is bring the world closer.

It's not his beauty, it's his mind. And, though I can't see it or feel it, though I know that he never truly spoke it to me, that he never truly let me in or shared, I know his mind like it's my own, because they're the same. My mind is drawn to his. My body is drawn to his. My eyes are drawn to his. My soul is drawn to his. And not like I'm drawn to Angela. Not like I knew that I could trust Angela, that Angela was a kindred spirit. I was drawn to Edward the way that I'm drawn to the sun, to warmth, to my favorite color and my favorite song. I was drawn to Edward because his existence made my life make sense. And I don't know why. And I don't know how. And I don't want it to be true because there is just so much that I don't understand about him, about what happened in that parking lot. But it _is _true. Not that it matters anymore. He's gone and I'm safe and life can move on. He's gone and I don't have to worry about it. But I can still remember him, I can still try to solve the riddle that was him, even in his absence, and maybe if I can solve it I can understand how it happened. Why it happened. How, after only three days, a perfect stranger managed to insinuate himself into every fiber of my being so thoroughly.

His differentness was not a surprise to me. I have tried to shrug it off for days now, tried to play it down in my mind, to come up with a reasonable explanation. Angela's answer that day in the diner made sense. It made perfect sense. Except that I knew it wasn't true. Even if I hadn't watched him deflect that mass of moving steel as though it took no effort at all, even if his skin hadn't blinded me with its brilliance, I knew it wasn't true. Because somewhere in my heart I had believed that he would never leave me, and his face that day had shown me the same thing. And I don't know what it means, and I don't know what to make of it, but now he's gone and I guess my heart lied. I guess his did, too.

His skin had been so beautiful, so amazing. And his strength had been awe-inspiring. But then he had always been beautiful and amazing and awe-inspiring even without those physical traits. And now that he had a quantifiable way of proving that to me, I couldn't be too shocked. Because it was just part of him, and how could I fear something that made him who he was? I'm sure it means something adds up to something horrible or wonderful, but it doesn't matter now. All that matters is that he existed in my life, even for such a brief amount of time, and that, as a result, I can never be the same. And for once, I'm going to celebrate that change.

I am sad that Edward Cullen is gone and, though I don't understand why he left, I can imagine that it probably had something to do with my seeing his secrets. There was a part of him that wanted to trust me. That was the part that would smile at me, that would make jokes, that would reveal itself through his eyes for brief moments. But a larger part told him that he _shouldn't _ trust me, that it would be dangerous to do so, and that part was the one that was there with me that afternoon. I'm sure that part told him to leave. And I can't be angry about it, because that part exists in me, too. We were both torn not quite down the middle between not trusting and the alien urge to put faith in another… and I can't fault him for that because I was there with him. It makes me sad that the larger part in him won. It makes me sad that he didn't know that I would never reveal his secrets… any of them. But he's gone now. And I'm here. And that's that.

Edward made Forks beautiful, but it can continue to be beautiful in his absence. I've seen how life can be now, how things can feel. I've seen what the world has to offer if I'll just let it in. Angela has shown me what friendship can be. Edward has shown me what… love?... can feel like. And I will not shut myself down to those things again. I will not allow myself to hide from the world any longer. Renee and Charlie are imperfect and miserable, but they've lived their lives. They've allowed other people into their hearts. And they're better for it. And I can be better, too. I _will_ be better, too. I have no choice in the matter. I have tasted flight, and will ever after attempt to return to the sky.

_The End._

**A/N: *ducks behind a table* Please don't throw things! This is the end of Eyes Turned Skyward. There will be a sequel. That's all I'm saying. Go review.**


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